Fractured Memories
by totallynutso
Summary: A case triggers Face to open a "box" that he has kept secret in his head for years, spilling memories he'd rather forget. Once open, he cannot shut it before Hannibal realizes what is inside. Team fic. WARNINGS noncon m/m rape


Warnings for this fic include noncon rape, and semi-graphic prostitution. I've rated it R (18+) because of this. I'm not kind to Face _at all_ in this one, folks, sorry!

Written for a prompt at the LJ meme. A_ case triggers Face to open a "box" that he has kept closed for years. Once open, he cannot shut it before Hannibal realizes what is inside. Referring to the box in his head that he has locked inside memories of a life Face would rather forget ever existed..._

Enjoy!

oOo

Fractured Memories.

The street beneath the third floor hotel room of the Radisson was busy. The everyday hustle and bustle of San Francisco's tourist trade, alongside the serenade of the city's many seagulls, drifted easily through the open windows with a warm early October breeze.

Colonel Hannibal Smith looked out across the bay and pondered the island he could see. Alcatraz Island. It was one of the reasons they were right here, at this particular hotel, the double room rented at the enthusiastic request of the team's pilot when he'd found out about the interesting view, which apparently amused Murdock no end.

Hannibal knew the history of the once famous prison well, hell, who didn't, but that wasn't why they were in San Francisco. They were here to meet with a man desperate for their help.

Listening to the city's soft hum of life, the team sat around the small table in the kitchen area, looking at the information Face had found out about their prospective client, who wanted to pay them a huge amount of money to find his son.

"I still have a bad feeling about this one, boss," Face murmured with a small frown. Hannibal turned from the window and looked at his XO, eye brows raised, coffee mug poised half way to his lips.

"Oh?"

"C'mon, Hannibal, he's a big shot lawyer," Face said. "High profile. Partner in one of the biggest law firms in San Francisco..."

Murdock leaned over and peered at the papers Face held tight in his hand. The pilot knew all this, but he was curious to see if anything else had magically appeared since he last read them himself.

"Kid, we've checked him out, he has no ties to the military, he's a legit case," Hannibal reasoned and sat down. Face frowned even harder.

He didn't like it at all. Clayton Briggs, of _Briggs, Lehman & Cole_, an established, prestigious, renowned law firm, was wealthy, had connections in all the right places... Why the hell did he need to hire The A-Team to find his son?

"I just don't get it, boss. His kid's missing, why not hire a PI? Get the FBI involved? Why us?" Face asked. BA cocked his head, a thoughtful look flashing across his face.

"Gotta admit, pretty boy's right, Hannibal," he grunted, placing his glass of milk on the table with a thud. "Man's takin' a helluva risk hiring a bunch o' fugitives instead."

Hannibal gathered up the papers and piled them neatly. He looked at each of his boys in turn, his eyes falling on Face. "I understand your concerns, boys, and I'll be able to gauge better after I meet with him this afternoon. But we have to remember there's a sixteen year old kid missing, and that's the important thing. Okay?" He waited a beat when no one answered. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Face muttered as the other two nodded.

It was a simple missing person's case. Clayton Briggs' teenage son, Charles Brandon Briggs, had run away from home, and the lawyer had travelled all the way to LA to find The A-team, begging them for help and offering an extra twenty five percent on top of what he was offering to pay them if they came to San Francisco. Because he was a busy man, he'd explained emphatically to a less than impressed Colonel Smith, and couldn't afford the time to gallivant back and forth to LA.

But for that kind of money, Hannibal agreed on behalf of the team anyway. They'd located run-a-ways before, and they'd find Charles too, but Face still felt very uneasy about the job.

"Where are you meeting him?" the lieutenant asked, finger's idly tearing a piece of toast to bits.

"Gracie's Diner," Hannibal grinned. All three men looked at him wide eyed.

"You kiddin'!" BA chuckled.

Gracie's Diner was a greasy truck stop. Definitely no place for the rich, successful lawyer type.

"Nope." The colonel stuck a cigar between his teeth and lit it, the rich pungent smell curling around the small kitchen of their rented room immediately. BA flapped his hand.

"Aw Hannibal, man, I'm still eatin' here," he complained, rolling his eyes when Hannibal just smiled. Murdock chuckled which earned him a glare from the big guy, and he quickly shut up again.

"If Briggs is desperate enough to hire us, he'll suffer Gracie's bad coffee," Hannibal said. "Besides, it's strategically secure for a meet."

That was the advantage of the diner. It was in the middle of nowhere, with a good view of the highway, so if Briggs was simply another ruse to capture them, they'd see it and still have time to finish coffee before making their escape.

"I still think we should all go. For back up. Just in case," Face noted, still uncomfortable about the whole thing. Hannibal frowned when he saw Face chew at his lip – a sign of nerves.

"Nah, me an' Murdock are going. I need you an' BA to watch Briggs' building." A hint of military presence and they were out of there. "We'll meet back here this evening."

And that was the plan.

oOo

Gracie's Diner was quiet, with Gracie herself, Alf the short order cook, and two customers, the only other occupants. Hannibal and Murdock sat in a window booth opposite the door, with a fully scoped view of the road in and out of the little truck stop. Briggs' black Mercedes was spotted a good ten minutes before it pulled up in front.

The man was so out of place in the diner it was comical. At least a thousand dollar tailored suit, probably Armani, and Italian shoes walked across the sticky, stained floor towards Hannibal and Murdock.

"Mr Smith," Briggs said hesitantly. Hannibal nodded once. Briggs grimaced at the bench seat with disdain, obviously considering his expensively clad ass and the dubious looking grotty fifties leather padding.

"Sit down, Mr Briggs," Hannibal offered. The lawyer slowly slid into the seat with a wince as Murdock slurped his strawberry milkshake noisily through a straw.

Silence followed until Briggs shifted uncomfortably.

"Hi, sugar, can I get you some coffee?" Gracie's forty-a-day smoke roughened voice cut the tension. Briggs shook his head but Hannibal ordered for him.

"Yeah, Gracie, honey, give him one of your specials, too," the colonel grinned.

"You betcha! One Double Dog Dare Ya with the works comin' up," she smiled and poured Briggs a coffee. "You want fries with that, sugar?"

"No, thank you," Briggs choked, horrified at the thought of greasy diner food, but Murdock quickly piped up with an enthusiastic "yes". The lawyer could feel his arteries hardening already.

"Mr Smith, I really don't want-"

"Did you bring the information I requested?" Hannibal interrupted, smile now gone and a serious expression on his face. Down to business.

Briggs pulled out a file from his expensive brief case and handed it to the colonel.

"I gotta tell ya, Briggs, I'm a little confused as to why you wanna hire us to find your son," Hannibal said as he handed the file to Murdock. Briggs looked away as a slow flush reddened his cheeks. "You must have connections with people that can find him, and be a lot cheaper than we are."

"Money is no problem, Mr Smith," Briggs hissed, clearly agitated.

"So, tell me the truth, or we walk," Hannibal said firmly, his hand briefly on Murdock's arm. The lawyer slumped in the seat.

"Okay, look," he started, "I know who and what you are, and believe me, Mr Smith, it pains me to even contemplate turning to a bunch of... criminals for help, but..."

"Hey, that ain't nice," Murdock interrupted frowning. Hannibal patted his arm to calm him. Briggs sighed.

"I'm sorry."

Gracie arrived with a plate piled high with fries and another holding a huge, greasy hamburger, with fried onions, relish, fried mushrooms, the works. Briggs took one look at it and almost gagged.

"Here ya go, honey," Gracie beamed. "Hot sauce and mustard are at the back there. You need anything else, you just holler, okay sugar?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hannibal answered for the lawyer. Gracie winked at the colonel before leaving when her short order cook shouted after her to refill the coffee machine.

Briggs' stomach turned over and he pushed the plate away, the over-powering smell of fried food practically seeping into his every carefully exfoliated pore. He swallowed hard to stop himself vomiting when Murdock grabbed a fry and dipped it in his milkshake.

"Y'okay?" the pilot asked Briggs as he shoved the milky fry into his mouth. "You look like yer gonna puke. He looks like he's gonna puke, bossman."

"That right? You gonna puke, Briggs?" Hannibal asked the distinctly green looking man. Briggs shook his head and took a deep breath. "Good, because you still haven't answered my question, and time is getting short."

"Charles ran away," Briggs said, that flush returning again, "And he's been sighted in the red light district of New York."

"What, hooking?" Murdock asked and Briggs shushed him immediately. Murdock shrugged. "What?"

"Yes, he's... on the streets, doing... that," Briggs hissed uncomfortably.

And it all made sense now. The big hot shot lawyer didn't want to go to the police with this because of the ramifications it would have on his own career, his reputation, if it got out that his son was a prostitute.

"I need you to find him, bring him home. Discreetly," the lawyer said lowly. "That's what I'm paying for."

Hannibal frowned and pursed his lips. He suddenly felt sorry for Charles Briggs, having a father like that, paying big money to _discreetly_ bring his son home, but second only to making sure his own rep was protected first.

Murdock pushed his half finished milkshake away and sat back, clearly understanding, too.

But Charles Briggs was still missing, and apparently had landed himself in a dangerous predicament, and Hannibal couldn't in all good conscience _not_ try to help.

"Alright, Mr Briggs," he said, "You just hired yourself The A-Team. We'll find your son, bring him home, but we won't pander to your precious career."

"Fair enough," Briggs nodded. "But I expect a certain level professionalism from you, and confidentiality."

Murdock decided he didn't like this man and scowled at him. Briggs squirmed under the scrutinising stare.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, as agreed. Cash. Half now, the rest when Charles is safe," Hannibal reminded the lawyer and Briggs reached into his briefcase again and pulled out a thick envelope. He handed it to Hannibal, who passed it to Murdock.

The pilot tested the weight and nodded.

"You're not going to count it?" Briggs asked. Hannibal shook his head.

"No need, Murdock says it's all there. Besides, you stiff us and we'll find you." It was a threat. A subtle one, but it had the desired effect as Briggs' face paled. "Okay, we'll be in touch. Enjoy your lunch."

Briggs watched Hannibal and Murdock slide out of the booth, and then stared at the congealed food sitting in cold grease. He quickly pulled out a couple of twenty dollar bills, threw them on the table, and left the diner as fast as he could.

Driving his Mercedes back into the city, Briggs prayed he'd done the right thing, and his wayward son would be found quickly and quietly before he became a career destroying embarrassment.

oOo

Face and BA were already in the apartment when Hannibal and Murdock walked in. They'd watched the _Briggs, Lehman & Cole_ building all afternoon, with nary a glimpse of military presence.

"How'd it go?" Face asked as soon as Hannibal sat down. Murdock handed him a beer and answered for him.

"Guy's a fuckin' asshole," he grumbled snapping open his can and gulping a mouthful down.

Face and BA looked at each other. "Well, yeah. Man's a lawyer," BA grunted, his opinion marred by his own personal experience with lawyers.

"No, I mean, he doesn't deserve to be a father," Murdock clarified with a huff.

"What's going on, boss, we takin' the case, or what?" Face wanted to know. Hannibal pulled out the thick envelope of cash and placed it on the table.

"Yes. Clayton Briggs is, as Murdock succinctly puts it, an asshole, but his son is still missing. And we're gonna find him," Hannibal said and took a drink of his beer. "And we're headed for New York, and the red light district."

And the proverbial light switched on. BA blinked at Face as the lieutenant nodded to himself. Of course that was why they were being hired...

"Yep, asshole dad doesn't want his hooker son to be a blight on his career, so he hires us to find him... discreetly," Murdock voiced exactly what Face was thinking.

"But we're still gonna find him," Hannibal said. "The kid is only sixteen, but for whatever reason he ran away from home... Hooking in New York... he'll be lucky if he sees seventeen."

Face sat quietly. Sixteen, and walking the streets of New York's red light district, homeless, scared... it was something he knew well. Too well. A life time ago, but he was fourteen. He excused himself and left his team talking plans and locked himself in the bathroom.

The image in the mirror stared back at him with eyes that reflected that time... eyes older than he really was. Face had had to grow up fast back then, purely for survival. Walking the streets was dangerous, deadly, but to someone who had nothing, had nowhere to go, it meant at least money for something to eat, maybe lodgings.

For Face, it was a part of his life that he'd locked away securely in his mind, and for good reason, because at fourteen, young Templeton Peck was a master of his craft. He was tall, beautiful and charming, and very quickly forged himself a reputation, and therefore always attracted tricks. In fact, they sought him out.

He called himself Chris, no last name, which was short for 'Christmas'... the time he found himself alone and scared on the streets of New York after he'd run away from his last abusive foster home.

He learned fast, too. He had too. After a few violent tricks, Face realised it was either step up his game or die in the gutter.

He needed to control his life, his tricks, not the other way around, and he soon had them practically eating out of his hand.

Face was obscenely talented at what he did, offered skills that were desired by both male and female customers, which also made him a target for jealous rivals. He managed to survive a whole year as a street hooker, until an escort agency realised his potential and recruited him. And with a small Manhattan apartment in the deal, and enough money to keep him from starving, Face signed the contract, signing away his life.

But as soon as he was sixteen, Chris disappeared from the agency, from that life, and Templeton Peck, with falsified documents, joined the army.

He saw it was a way to try and redeem his life, to try and live it with a purpose instead of selling his body, fucking for money. Templeton had been raised a Catholic, the teachings of the Bible drilled into him from an early age, and couldn't help but cringe every time he thought of God, and what The Almighty must think of him and the life he'd led.

But that time on the streets, and as an escort, haunted him. So the little box in the back of his mind stayed locked. To open it would be like opening Pandora's Box. Everything would escape, all the horrors of that life, the bad memories, the obscene and depraved skills, everything, except that tiny slither of hope. The one thing that kept Templeton going through it all... the knowledge that as soon as he was able, he'd join up, escape that life, start a new one. A better one.

But, of course, that had all now gone to shit, too.

In order to do this job, go back to New York and find Charles Briggs, Face knew cracks would appear in that box, he could already feel them... cracks that would inevitably get bigger and bigger, and opening the box again would be devastating, and Face knew he wouldn't be able to shut it before Hannibal found out about his old life... found out what he was, a whore, and he'd know Face had lied to him, kept it secret from him, and Hannibal would hate him for it.

And Face would lose him. He'd lose all of them.

oOo

"You okay, kid?" Hannibal's voice drifted through the locked door of the bathroom, followed by a soft knock.

Face blinked and sighed. Hannibal sounded worried. He opened the door and smiled. "Yeah, sorry, boss," he murmured.

Hannibal studied Face for a moment and didn't like what he saw. The kid looked tired, despondent. Something was upsetting him, and Hannibal needed to know what. "Is it this case?"

Sighing, and not wanting to lie to his colonel, Face hedged an imperceptible nod. Hannibal steered the man into his bedroom and sat him down on the bed before closing the door.

"What about HM and BA?" Face asked confused. Were they retiring early this evening?

"The guys have gone out for ice cream," Hannibal told him. "They're bringing you back some," he added before Face pouted.

"Oh okay."

"So, what's goin' on with you?" Hannibal asked gently. He'd caught the distant, troubled look on his lieutenant's face when he'd excused himself and left the room earlier, but decided to leave him to collect himself for a few moments. He realised then that this case had started to dredge up painful memories for Face.

Hannibal knew Face had had a difficult child hood, with abusive foster homes and questionable orphanages, but Face was always very vague when asked about it. Even Murdock couldn't pry anything more than a flippant "I grew up fast, I had to," from him. And there wasn't much in his records, something Hannibal suspected Face had deliberately made sure of.

The colonel knew Face had joined the army before the legal age, too, even though his birth certificate stated otherwise, and often wondered how _bad_ the kid's life had been that he desperately needed to escape it. When Hannibal first met the brash, arrogant young recruit, he had to double check the papers actually said he was over eighteen, because the baby face soldier didn't look old enough to have even hit puberty yet.

Two years later though, a confident and self-assured young Lieutenant Peck joined Colonel Smith's Ranger Unit, a far cry from the cocky young kid out to prove himself as a toughened soldier the fastest way possible.

It was then Hannibal began to see the kid as the son he never had, taking him under his wing, becoming a father figure to him, and Face, so nick-named because of his model looks, and they way he used them to his advantage, which earned him his reputation of being the best supply officer the US Army had ever seen - the kid was a genius and Hannibal's unit never went without, happily fell into the role of son.

And when the unit was stream-lined, choosing Face to be his partner in his new two man team was a task easier than Hannibal thought it would be. His XO at the time had just smiled knowingly and shook Hannibal's hand, so had his fourth. And together, Colonel Smith and Lieutenant Peck were quite a team.

Over the years, Hannibal had grown to know the boy inside and out, and whatever this was right now, it was eating Face up, tearing him apart and the colonel couldn't just sit by and watch.

"Kid, c'mon, tell me what it is?" he tried again. Was it the fact Charles Briggs was a run-a-way, something Face could probably identify with, as Hannibal suspected the kid had run away from state institutions a few times himself?

"It's New York," Face said quietly.

"You... you don't like New York?" Hannibal asked carefully. Face shook his head.

"Haven't been there in years. Not since I joined up," he continued softly. He worried the skin around his thumb nail. "It's not... It's a dangerous place for a kid to be... on the streets."

And that slither of information told Hannibal much more than he'd ever dared imagine about life for Face as a child. He shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulder.

"How long were you homeless?" he asked very gently. Face shrugged and Hannibal could literally feel the waves of tension pouring off him. He was struggling.

"Not long. Joined the army as soon as I could," he whispered. And, okay, he'd sort of lied, but how did he explain to Hannibal exactly _how_ he'd survived for _two_ long years?

"Yes, I know. I remember. You were a lot younger than your birth certificate stated," Hannibal said with a knowing smile. Face offered a small smile back. The colonel hugged him tighter, "It was that bad?"

Face took a moment to think... the rapes, the beatings, the things he'd done for a quick buck, the way he'd sold himself to anyone that would pay... He nodded. "Yeah, it was that bad."

"Then we have to find Charles Briggs as soon as we can. Just being homeless is one thing," Hannibal said and Face shot a glance at him, "Hooking is something else. The kid is in serious trouble."

Face's heart thudded painfully against his chest, Hannibal thought he had only been homeless - his terrible secret was still safe. And if he was brutally honest with himself, Face didn't know whether he was relieved or saddened by that.

"You gonna be okay, son?" Hannibal asked gently and Face forced himself to smile, pushing everything back into that box where it belonged again.

"Gonna be just fine, boss," he nodded.

A quick rap of knuckles on the bedroom door startled them both, and they chuckled, echoing together, "Murdock."

"Guys? I have ice cream," Murdock sing-songed through the panelled door.

"Mmmm," Face grinned. It was his one weakness. "Did'ya get me some maple, buddy?" he shouted hopefully.

Hannibal shook his head amused. Of all the flavours available, Face still preferred that one simple, pure note – maple.

"'Course I did, Facey! An' I got the bossman his favourite, too," Murdock said, the smile clearly audible in his voice.

Looking up, Face couldn't help but grin at the happy expression on Hannibal's face.

"C'mon, guys, ice cream's meltin'!"

"Oops, we'd better go or he'll be breaking down the door next," the colonel sighed and they both hauled themselves off the bed. "Okay, Murdock, we'll be right there!"

Besides Hannibal had a quick, secret mission to complete, involving falsified ID's, some stealthy planning with SFO, and an insane cover story to explain away 210lbs of snoring muscle man, if they wanted that 4am flight to JFK, New York.

oOo

"New York's a big place, bossman," Murdock mused softly as he studied the internet. "They don't call it the _Big_ Apple for nothin'."

Hannibal spooned a scoop of Fudge Delight into his mouth and nodded. "We're headed for the Red Light District in Manhattan. Narrows the search grid down significantly."

Murdock's fingers danced across the keyboard and a street map Manhattan filled the screen. "Okay, gotcha."

Looking over at Face, Hannibal frowned slightly at the far away expression he was wearing. His maple ice cream, half gone, was sat melting on the table, next to the file containing photographs and the details of one Charles Brandon Briggs, age sixteen, last seen in that area. The sighting was already four days old, but unfortunately that particular lead was a bust as the person, or persons, were unknown and unreachable. Face's fingers were still touching the happy, smiling face of Charles on what looked like his high school Year Book picture.

"Face?" Hannibal called softly. The kid blinked and curled his fingers back from the table.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" the colonel asked quietly. Face's lips lifted into a small smile and he nodded, but Hannibal could see the strain starting.

The plan they had wasn't the best... hell it was downright awful, but with time not on their side, Hannibal couldn't think of anything else. But he still didn't like putting Face right out there like that, especially now knowing what he knew.

The plan was for Face to go on the streets, undercover, as a prostitute, to try and find out any intel, any information on the whereabouts of Charles. He wouldn't be alone, though, BA would be there as his 'pimp'.

But all Face could think about was that his life was suddenly closing in around his ears, and that box that he had tried to keep so carefully locked and hidden in his mind, was now spilling its tainted contents and it was starting to consume him...

But he had to keep it together, had to control it... for the sake of the kid, and Hannibal.

oOo

With their ice cream finished, it was approaching midnight and the team was finishing discussing the plan for the next day. It was a good two day's drive across the country from San Francisco to New York, and with the urgency of the job – finding Charles as quickly as they could, flying was obviously the only real viable option.

Much to BA's utter dismay.

"I ain't flyin' nowhere with that fool," he growled. Murdock clutched at his chest and feigned being dramatically crushed at the big guy's stubborn statement.

"I won't be flyin' the plane, Bosco, we'd be goin' commercial. Right, bossman?" he offered with a wink, before sticking finger in Face's empty ice cream pot and scooping out a drip of sticky maple leftovers. BA winced.

"That's right," Hannibal nodded.

"But if them pilot's let me, I'll be more than happy to fly that baby," the pilot grinned and stuck his finger in his mouth. Face laughed at the incredulous look on BA's face.

"Right, Hannibal, man, that's it! I'm gonna kill him," the big man threatened gruffly and launched himself across the table. Murdock shrieked and dove behind Face.

"Aw man, Bosco, I was only kiddin'!" he surrendered, giggling as Hannibal strained to keep BA off him.

"BA, stand down, big guy," Hannibal chuckled and BA sat back down, suddenly stifling yawn behind his fist. He blinked rapidly before suspiciously narrowing his eyes at Hannibal.

"You already done it, aint'cha?" he accused menacingly. Hannibal raised his eyebrows innocently. "Don'tchoo gimme that look, Hannibal, you done already booked the flight!"

"Now, BA, when did I have time for that?" Hannibal asked with a smile. He watched the big guy yawn again and sway slightly in his chair.

"Yeah, Bosco, we're talkin' plans an' eatin' ice cream," Murdock chimed in, his fingers now covered in the remnants of Hannibal's Fudge Delight. "We're not booking flights!"

"I don' trust you. You always pull this shit," BA growled.

Hannibal smiled and pushed his pot of chocolate ice cream closer to his sergeant. "Sure you don't wanna finish your ice cream, BA?"

He looked suspiciously at the empty pot and then blinked at the colonel. "Aw Hannibal," he whined indignantly and fell forward, head thudding against the table top.

The three remaining team members quickly rallied around packing up the room. "Man, didn't think he'd ever drop off," Face said as he shoved paperwork and their computers into a holdall.

"Y'can say that again! Bossman, I think Bosco's gettin' immune to that stuff!" Murdock called from the sink in the kitchenette.

"Maybe," Hannibal shrugged, but he doubted it. "He'll be out for the next twelve or so hours, that gives us until we get settled in the Radisson in Manhattan," he added, referring to the hotel accommodation Face had had the San Francisco Radisson hotel clerk organise for them earlier.

Briggs was paying them enough money, so they simply paid their way, instead of scamming. Easier, tidier.

After the room had been wiped down and emptied of all evidence of their occupancy, Hannibal and Murdock loaded BA into a wheel chair and pushed him out to a waiting taxi. While Face, with their baggage, checked out.

oOo

The flight was five hours of uneventful comfort. Hannibal had booked them all business class tickets, which came with a decent meal and a touch screen media centre that Murdock played with the whole duration. Face and Hannibal spent a part of the time going over the plan again, and preparing themselves for the job, dozing when they'd finished.

BA didn't wake up until they were booked and settled in their hotel suite.

oOo

"Ahhh! Lemme up! I'm gonna kill all o' you!" BA shouted from his wheel chair, where he'd been tightly cocooned in a blanket by Murdock.

Face looked up from the bed and winced. The big guy did not look happy. "BA-"

"Get this off'a me, Faceman!"

"Um..."

"I said now, damnit!"

Murdock walked in then, with Hannibal in tow, and instantly back-peddled when BA glared menacingly at him.

"Oh, hi, Bosco," he said hesitantly. Hannibal shoved the pilot into the room and closed the door. BA growled.

"W-we got you some milk, an' a sub, Bosco," the pilot tried to placate his big friend. "Your favourite... Meatball. Mmmm."

Releasing the sergeant, Hannibal stepped aside and let the big guy grab his food and milk, knowing after the knock-out drug, he'd be ravenous.

"Ya don't hafta snatch," Murdock pouted, but immediately conceded when BA pinned him with a glare and snarled. He dragged off his over coat and stepped back.

Face shook his head and carried on studying the street map, recommitting to memory the familiar names that had haunted his nightmares for years after he'd finally turned his back on that life in New York.

It was disturbingly like he'd never left though. He knew exactly where to go, instantly recognised where the best pick up corners were from the street terrain, and the places to avoid. And could tell which motels offered discreet room rentals, the cleanest sheets and the best rates simply from their locations. It was an occupational skill he'd perfected. Through necessity... for survival.

The only difference now was his age. He was nearly twenty years older, and he knew from his time back then, that older prostitutes were ostracised and didn't do as well, for obvious reasons, so he'd really have to be on his game.

And that terrified him.

Because he could do that. Easily.

He felt the bed dip as Hannibal sat by him, and Face looked up, offering a small smile. BA and Murdock were still warily eyeing each other, ignoring them.

"You okay with the plan, Face?" Hannibal asked quietly, eyes falling on the notes Face had scribbled on a note-pad. The kid's usually neat, cursive handwriting had been replaced with a shaky, untidy scrawl. The colonel frowned and leaned in. "Because we can pull out anytime, kid," he reminded him.

No plan was worth any member of his team put at risk because they were so uncomfortable that their game would be off.

Shaking his head, Face closed his note-pad. "No, I'm good, boss," he said softly. "We have to find Charles."

"Yes, we do," Hannibal agreed. "Any idea where to start looking?"

Of course he did. Face knew exactly where to start looking, but only because he'd been down this road before. Literally. He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Get dressed, we leave in thirty minutes," the colonel said and rubbed a comforting palm along the kid's thigh.

His disguise, for want of a better description, consisted of black, soft leather pants, and an open neck white cotton shirt that showed off his furred, sculptured chest beautifully, and a long royal blue silk scarf wrapped once around his neck to hide his communicator. Over the top, Face wore a fitted navy blue jacket, to hide his Glock-17, and a pair of back Laredo zipper cowboy boots to finish off the ensemble. He stood a good two inches taller in the heels.

"Wow, Facey," Murdock breathed when Face stood up and looked at himself in the full length mirror with a blank expression. "You look just like Don Juan!"

Face ignored the wolf whistle that followed. "I look like a fuckin' Nancy-boy," he grumbled, silently thinking that he'd also probably freeze to death, too. The weather was unseasonably cold in New York right now, and a thin layer of snow covered the city.

"Aw no, kid, you look the part, and that's what's important," Hannibal grinned as he stood behind and looked at him in the mirror. Face glanced up and forced out a smile, but it came out looking just as uncomfortable and grim as he felt. Hannibal's eyes narrowed slightly. Something was off with the kid, but he couldn't quite figure out what. "You sure you're up to this?" he asked softly, concern on the edge of his voice.

"Yeah, boss, let's go find the kid," Face answered. He just wanted this job over and done with as fast as possible.

"BA, you dressed?" Hannibal called as he gave Face a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Whatever was troubling Face would have to now wait. The sergeant came out of the bathroom and grunted. He was dressed all in black and looked very suave. Murdock's eyes widened and he stared.

"So, BA, tell me... What is The Matrix?"

"Shut up, fool," BA barked and with a dangerous smile slipped on a pair of sunglasses. He walked over towards Hannibal with a definite swagger. Murdock grinned.

"'_There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path'_," the pilot quoted, "And, BA, you _so_ know the walk!"

Hannibal blinked. "Matrix?" he whispered in Face's ear. The conman nodded with a shrug.

"Hannibal, tell this fool to shut up," BA growled, "Or I will!"

"Knock it off, boys," Hannibal stepped in. He checked his watch. "Okay, Face, you an' BA walk the streets, find out what you can. Me an' Murdock'll check out the local cafe's, bars etcetera. Keep the mike's open. I want contact at all times. Understood?"

Three voices chimed in an affirmative. They all rechecked their communication, and then they were out of the door and on the street.

oOo

BA watched as Face literally sashayed down Lexington Avenue, the glow from the colourful shop display lights and the street lamps accentuating his tall gracefulness and model good looks. He kept his distance, but made sure people knew he was there. He had to admit to himself that Face certainly knew what he was doing, that the kid was one hell of an actor, because his charm and alluring smile had practically everyone he talked to almost eating out of his hand.

Face had a confident air of charisma, which made him extremely attractive, and BA noticed the lascivious looks that were thrown at him, like they all just wanted to throw him down in the snow and fuck him blind, and that made the big guy uncomfortable.

They had spent the bulk of the day freezing their asses off and showing people Charles' photograph and asking questions, but for all his charm, Face couldn't get the vital information he needed to find Charles Briggs. And everyone he did speak to either simply hadn't seen the teenager, or quickly denied any knowledge of the boy.

Too quickly.

Something was definitely suspicious, and as the time ticked on, and night fell, Face knew he had to try a different tactic.

Three men approaching him made Face stop on the sidewalk, he looked at them and saw the lusty leer clear in their eyes. BA edged closer but still hung back just far enough in the shadows not to be too obvious.

"Gentlemen," Face smiled widely, "Can I help you?"

"How much?" one of the men asked eagerly. Face slowly drew his finger down his naked chest, flushed with the cold, and inwardly smirked when he saw all three sets of eyes follow it.

"Depends," he purred and let the same finger disappear under his cotton shirt and towards a nipple. He gasped softly and puffed out his chest at the touch. "I don't normally do gang-bangs."

One of the men stepped forward and smiled shamelessly. "What'll it cost then?" he asked lowly. Face cocked his head to the side and licked his lips. He knew that little action stoked the fire, had used it many a time before, and it still worked beautifully. He pulled out the small photograph of Charles Briggs and held it tightly in his hand to stop it shaking and looked at the three men, silently deciding he was going to call them Moe, Larry and Curly.

"A thousand dollars," he said. The three men all blinked. "Each," added Face with a small coy smile.

"That's a little steep," the first man, Moe, said.

"I'm that good," countered Face and he waited, mentally ticking off the seconds before he knew his trick would agree. They always did.

"What if we wanna go bareback?"

Face put on a show of considering this... fucking without a condom was something he had _never_ done with a trick. But since Face had no intention _whatsoever_ of letting these guys even _touch_ him...

"Okay," he purred, "I'll let you fuck me bareback for an extra fifty, each," he said.

The three men all grinned. "Okay, you're on," growled Moe.

BA listened to the conversation with a heavy, sick feeling in his gut. "Face, whatchoo doin', man?" he murmured. Face showed no sign of hearing his concerned question in the small device hidden in his ear.

"You got a place in mind, sweetheart?" Face enquired in a sultry voice, smiling and pointedly looking at the man's obviously excited groin, "Or do you trust me?"

The two eager looking apes behind the man both palmed their crotches. "Oh, we'll trust you, pretty boy," Moe leered again.

Face leaned in closely, angling his head slightly, lips barely millimetres away from the other man's, hot breath misting in the cold air. "Follow me, then."

BA growled into his mike and Face threw him a quick glance as he led the three men towards a small motel. He walked in and stood by the desk, focussed on his task and not really noticing BA entering and blocking the exit. The three men narrowed their eyes, suddenly wary.

"Hey, man, what is this?" Moe grunted eyeing up the muscle man in black. He crowded up against Face who blinked momentarily startled for half a second before he saw BA.

"Oh, don't mind Clancy," Face smiled easily, "He's just my pimp."

"Yeah," BA hissed dangerously, not liking the way the man had Face up against the wall, "An' I don' like my merchandise messed with before payment. Back off, motherfucker!"

The man instantly backed off and made a show of smoothing down Face's navy jacket. "No problem, man!"

"Thousand dollars each, plus extra's," BA reminded them none too gently, playing along with Face's bizarre plan for the moment, and Moe hastily pulled out a thick clip of money. He handed it to the pimp in black and stepped back again. BA felt sick at the look of pure lust driven greed in the man's eyes.

Face smiled at BA, and then at the men, and turned towards the motel desk and rang the bell. An elderly man shuffled towards the front and immediately looked, wide eyed, at Face.

"Chris?" he blurted shocked.

oOo

Murdock juggled the two steaming coffees and bag of doughnuts between his hands and climbed back into their rented SUV. He handed one to Hannibal.

"Anything, bossman?"

"Nothing," Hannibal replied frustrated at the lack of progress. He sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

They'd checked out all the local bars, cafes, anywhere they could think of, and no one had seen Charles Briggs. The job was turning out to be more complicated than it was supposed to be. And Hannibal was starting to suspect there was more going on here than meets the eye.

He listened in again when he heard BA grunt something urgently to Face. What the fuck was Face doing? It sounded like he was picking up a trick.

"What the fuck is he doin', bossman?" Murdock hissed wide eyed, voicing exactly what Hannibal was thinking. His best buddy sounded so calm and professional to Murdock, too calm in fact, like this was something he did every day. "Hannibal-"

"Shhh," Hannibal cut the pilot off. He needed to listen. 'Show him the photo,' Hannibal silently urged as Face negotiated the price for his body. The colonel could feel his stomach twist at the words Face used, and couldn't understand what he was doing. How did the kid know how to turn tricks?

"_You got a place in mind, sweetheart? Or do you trust me?"_

Gasping out a harsh breath, Hannibal closed his eyes. That was Face's 'flirting' voice, the one Hannibal had heard him use when they were out together with women. Fear hit the colonel hard and it felt like his insides had just combusted in a blaze of worry.

What the fuck was the kid doing?

Murdock shot a look at Hannibal when he heard the gasp, his mouth open in shock at the conversation over their communications. He didn't know what worried him more, the fact that Face was doing it, or the fact that Face knew exactly how to do what he was doing, and with an ease born of well practiced time.

They listened to BA play along, but could hear the discomfort in his growls, and both silently wondered how far the big guy would let Face go before he stepped in.

They didn't expect the harsh inhale of breath and second of panic from Face when an old voice called out the name Chris, though.

oOo

"Is it you?" the old man asked. Face blinked rapidly trying to compose himself, and for the first time instantly recognised where he was. He felt the colour drain from his face. The place was just the same! Same beige and brown decor, the same pictures on the walls... And after _years_ of leaving this street, this life, he never expected Mister Arnold, proprietor of Millie's Motel, and one time temporary surrogate father figure to a very young, scared and lonely Templeton Peck, also known as Chris, to still be alive, let alone still apparently working at the same motel. The man back then was easily already in his sixties.

"I... I think you're mistaking me for someone else," Face said softly, quickly compartmentalising his emotions and praying the old man would think he had just simply been wrong.

"No, I'd know your beautiful face anywhere, my lad," Mister Arnold insisted peering at Face through thick glasses.

"No, you're wrong," the kid said irritably and slammed down one hundred dollars right next to the same dull brass call bell. "Double room, please, discretion as always."

The old man looked sadly at Face and blinked away moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes. He took the money and handed over a key. "Room 107, your usual, Chris," he said softly and moved away.

Face took the key and swallowed hard before turning around. The three men were still there, greed and depraved lust on their faces and he felt sick. He caught BA's eye and indicated a minute before he followed them.

BA reluctantly nodded but as soon as they were out of sight he hissed into his comm. unit, "Hannibal, Millie's on Lexington, and get here fast, man. I dunno what Face is fuckin' playin' at, but I ain't likin' it!"

Face heard BA and the sick feeling at the thought of Hannibal hearing all this too, consumed him. He knew the colonel wouldn't be happy, but what choice did he have? He had to gain trust on these streets if anyone was ever going to _really_ talk to him. Charm was simply not enough.

But it wasn't as though he planned to actually go through with it.

He unlocked the door and walked in, the three men falling over themselves in a bid to get in the room as fast as they could.

"So, you wanna get your clothes off, pretty boy?" Moe leered, voice husky with want.

Slowly sitting down on the bed, Face tried his damndest to stop the memories of his 'usual' room flooding his mind. It was just the same as he remembered, too. Sun faded flock wallpaper, dark wood furniture, and even the same large landscape print hanging above the bed head. The sheets were different, but the carpeting was familiar, if not more dirty and worn, and a little more disgustingly sticky. He felt sick, like the world was crushing him as those memories poured out of that box in his head at a rapid speed.

"All in good time," he smiled, eventually composing himself, and holding up Charles' photograph, he stood up and watched the men's faces carefully. "You seen this kid?"

"What?" Curly chimed in. He squinted at the picture and sneered at Face. "No, I ain't seen 'im. Now get on the bed," he leered palming himself obscenely.

Face raised an eyebrow, pulling back the repulsive grimace just in time. "Nice," he murmured before forcing his mouth into a calm smile. "Look again," he suggested, blue eyes hard.

Larry shrugged. "Ain't that Charlie?"

Ignoring Curly, Face moved towards Larry and held the picture up closer, his face carefully neutral. "You know this kid?"

Moe quickly snatched the photograph and threw it on the bedside table. "Enough, whore, get your clothes off," he demanded, an ugly sneer twisting his mouth. "We've paid for your ass, it's ours until it's fucked raw!"

Movement in his peripheral vision told Face that Larry and Curly had positioned themselves behind him... He was surrounded. And knew he was in trouble. His fight or flight instincts kicked in, and whereas there was a time 'flight' would have won over and Chris would have run as fast as he could, the trained Ranger in him now stood his ground and quickly and carefully calculated his next move.

oOo

"Room 107," BA said hurriedly as he, Murdock and Hannibal sprinted down the hallway. They'd heard everything, and knew Face was getting ready to fight.

And the perverse thing was, they had to get in there and stop him from killing those fuckers!

"Stand down, lieutenant!" Hannibal commanded loudly as he slammed the door open and saw Face's finger's twitch, his hand slowly moving towards the Glock he knew was in the back of kid's pants hidden under his jacket. Three sets of wide eyes quickly turned. Face kept his glare on his aggressor. Hannibal moved to stand in front of him, and could see the steady burn in the bright blue eyes as the kid prepared himself for combat. "Face! I said stand down, soldier!"

Face blinked and his eyes cleared. "Hannibal?"

Murdock then closed the door and BA pushed Larry, Curly and Moe onto the bed, growling at them threateningly if they even so much as twitched.

oOo

The bathroom door closed a little too harshly by Hannibal's hand and Face jumped. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" the colonel hissed sharply.

Face's brows rose. "What are you talking about? I'm tryin' to get information on the kid!"

"By actually _accepting_ a proposition? Selling yourself, and then bringing those three motherfuckers back here? The plan was to ask questions on the street!" Hannibal answered, his whispers rough with anger.

"Look, Hannibal, I wasn't gettin' anywhere out there, 'cause no one knows me, so no one _trusts_ me. And it's all about trust in this business! I had to..." Face stopped. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but now...

"Had to what?" Hannibal urged, curious to know what the hell Face's plan was.

"Ad lib! Step up my game?" he offered lamely.

Hannibal blew out a harsh breath and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the door, angry and upset.

"Boss, I was only tryin' to do my job," Face said quietly. He worried his lip with his teeth. "John..."

"What I wanna know, Face, is..." Hannibal whispered softly, "how far were you gonna go?" He opened his eyes and looked sadly at him, and Face's heart almost cracked.

Because Hannibal, after hearing what he'd heard, wasn't really sure. And that worried him. Just how far was Face willing to go for a job?

They all knew they couldn't win them all, but with the specifics of this one and Face's obvious discomfort with it, Hannibal was beginning to wonder if they should seriously consider pulling out, give Briggs his money back and tell him to fuck his rep and get the police to find his kid.

But of course they wouldn't do that.

"I wasn't gonna let 'em fuck me," Face winced at the harshness of his own words. "I just needed to get them alone and in my... confidence, so they'd _listen_ to me."

"Dangerous, reckless, careless, rash... Need I go on? Fuckin' stupid plan, Face!" Hannibal hissed. "And a thousand bucks _each_, plus extras? How the fuck did you know _how_ to do that?"

The question was thrown out there so easily, the one question Face silently prayed Hannibal would never ask, and Face took a step back, his mouth open ready to spill the truth, tell Hannibal about everything he'd kept hidden away in that little secret box in the back of his head, because he could never outright lie to his colonel, the man who'd been as close as a father to him for at least a third of his life.

And he knew if he did that, Face would lose him.

A soft knock on the door startled both men, and Face sighed shakily with relief.

"Bossman?" Murdock's muffled voice sounded hollow against the cheap varnished wood. Hannibal opened the door. "Oh, is ah... is everythin' okay?"

"Yeah, captain," the colonel said wearily. Murdock looked past Hannibal to check his buddy out and frowned when he saw Face's stance. The kid looked ...scared.

"Okay, well, these gentlemen have some news on our boy, bossman," Murdock nodded and held the door open so Hannibal could walk through. He glanced at Face to see him visibly shake himself and push away whatever was scaring the life out of him.

Hannibal frowned hard at the three men sat on the bed. He wanted to get to the bottom of the mentality of Face's little plan, but there were more pressing matters first, like the whereabouts of Charles Briggs.

"So, what do you know?" he barked. The three men jumped.

"Um... little Charlie, he ah..." Curly stuttered, face paling considerably.

"Spit it out, man," BA growled.

"The kid works outta Kendall's place," Moe chimed in, that ugly sneer twitching his lips. "Great little tight fuck, too."

Hannibal's fist swung so fast, Moe didn't even know what had hit him until the blood from his nose covered up that ugly sneer.

"Motherfucker!" he croaked nasally, hand flying up to test the damage. "Fucker broke my nose!"

The four members of The A team stood impassively as they watched the men on the bed squirm in fear.

"Where is this Kendall's place?" Hannibal asked.

"M...Manhattan... Park Avenue an' 85th," Larry squeaked instantly shrinking back as soon as he spoke.

Face's eyes widened and his heart stopped. It had changed names, but Park Avenue and 85th was the same location as the agency he had once worked for. It was more than a coincidence and he swallowed hard.

"BA, tie these fucker's up," Hannibal grunted. He turned to Face and blinked. The kid was as white as a sheet. "Face?"

Swallowing hard again, Face blinked rapidly and sprung into action. Hannibal narrowed his eyes and felt his insides tighten as he watched him. Something was very, very wrong.

And he was beginning to wonder just what happened to Face all those years ago when he was homeless and alone on the cruel streets of New York.

Murdock winked at the three trussed up men on the bed, "Don't worry, muchacho's, the police will be here soon to save you!" he laughed before closing and locking the door to room 107.

"Okay, we'll have a quick chat with the nice gentleman downstairs, and then work out a plan to get into Kendall's," the colonel told them as they descended the stairs. He noticed that Face was very quiet, but before he could dwell on it any further they were in the motel lobby.

Mister Arnold squinted at them through his thick lenses, his eyes lingering on Face longer than the rest of them. But if Hannibal noticed, he didn't let on.

"Hi, Mister..." Hannibal smiled widely and stuck out his hand. The old man hesitantly shook it.

"Arnold. Mister Arnold," he answered softly, still glancing across at Face every few seconds. Hannibal motioned to the upstairs before placing the key to room 107 on the counter.

"Mister Arnold, I'm sorry but you have three law breakers in your motel. If you'd be so kind as to call the police?" he told him and lit up a cigar.

"Oh, oh... really? Oh yes, of course," the old man dithered picking up the 'phone. He paused not really wanting the police in his motel... It would be bad for business. Face saw this and stepped forward and placed his hand over the old man's. Arnold blinked up at him.

"Don't worry," Face said softly and turned to Hannibal. "Boss, he can't do that," he whispered, "It's not exactly legal, I know... but this is Mr A's livelihood. He can't afford a bad police rep. We've gotta get rid of them."

Hannibal's brows hit his hairline, but he nodded all the same. The old guy was only renting out rooms, there was no need to ruin him over three depraved lowlifes. Ten minutes later, the three men, subdued and scared, were escorted roughly off the premises by BA with a threat to _never_ return. Or else! Needless to say, Curly, Larry and Moe, also known as Peter Brown, Jared Cullen and Brian Peach, all hurried away without looking back.

"Facey, you okay?" Murdock asked softly when he saw his buddy lost in thought for a few seconds. Hannibal and BA were already pacing towards their SUV.

"Yeah, man, just gonna make sure Mr A's okay," Face nodded and forced a small smile.

The pilot watched Face absently walk back into Millie's Motel with a curious gaze. That was the second time he'd called the old man Mr A like he knew him. His best buddy was acting all distant and disturbed like he was scared too, and that worried Murdock. Plus, Face _knew_ what he was doing on the street, selling himself like a pro. Like a proper prostitute.

He didn't know too much about Face's life growing up, other than he was an orphan and he'd had to grow up fast, but the voices in the pilot's head were screaming at him that to _know_ how to walk the walk, talk the talk, Face _had_ to have had some kind of experience... sometime, somewhere...

Just how much is what scared him.

Hannibal definitely knew something more than he was letting on too, but Murdock wasn't sure what. At the reaction to Face casually selling his ass to three men, the pilot was pretty sure it wasn't because the colonel thought that maybe, in another lifetime, Face had been a rent-boy himself.

But Murdock was starting to have his suspicions.

Murdock sighed. They had to talk about this, or this case would be the end of them, and little Charlie Briggs wouldn't be home for Christmas.

oOo

Face walked back into the small lobby of Millie's Motel and slowly approached the desk, flicking off his comm. unit and taking the small device out of his ear. This moment was a private one. Mister Arnold was there, watching him carefully, and they stood silently looking at each other for a moment before Face sighed, offering a little sad smile.

"I knew it was you, Chris," the old man breathed, those tears forming on the brink of his lashes again.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry, Mr A," Face said and swallowed, feeling a little overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions battling inside him... fear, sadness, loss, love, loneliness... it was like fourteen year old Templeton Peck had reappeared. "I... I couldn't say anything because..."

"It's alright, son," Mr A smiled softly. "It was just so lovely to see you again. Are you doin' okay?" If Chris was still in that line of work, he just prayed he was happy.

Face smiled and nodded.

"I was so worried when you disappeared. I thought you were dead," the old man whispered. He looked away, his frail, bony fingers drumming on the desk. "McCain came lookin' for you. Said you broke a contract and he was so mad. But I told 'im... I told 'im I didn't know where you were..."

Shit. He'd never thought about the repercussions of just disappearing like that when he'd joined up. Face closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he sighed.

"Oh, don't you apologise, son, you got out!" Mr A grinned, then faltered, "You did get out, right?"

"Yeah, joined the army," Face smiled and the old man grinned wider.

"Good for you, my boy!" There was a moment's silence. "So, Chris, you take good care of yourself, son," Mr A said softly, knowing that he'd probably never see the young man again, but thankful that he'd come back if only for a short time. Face covered the old man's cool hand and gently squeezed it.

"You too, Mr A, you take care of yourself, too," Face smiled before walking away.

oOo

Murdock heaved himself off the wall and stood when he saw Face come out to the motel. He'd been watching the night trade of Lexington Avenue, and found it morbidly educating. Beautiful men and women, boys and girls, all selling themselves in the sultriest of ways. He'd been approached twice, and had declined the offers for a ten dollar blowjob and a full service for fifty bucks with a quick wide eyed shake of his head.

He watched fascinated as a dozen sets of eyes turned towards Face and looked him up and down, practically undressing him with their heated gazes, and whistled.

"What?" Face blinked.

"Oh, nothin'," the pilot smiled and looped his arm through Face's. "C'mon, bossman an' BA are waitin'... and I bet BA's gettin' hungry again."

They walked towards the SUV in silence, Murdock throwing small concerned glances at his best buddy every few seconds, while Face seemed to be fighting some serious inner demons. Murdock could probably hear them if he listened carefully and used his secret super powers.

"Facey, you okay?" he asked when Face frowned and blew out a long breath.

"What?"

The pilot stopped them in the street and made Face look at him. "You know, you can talk to me," he smiled hopefully. "Best buds can talk to each other. About anything. I swear. Even pinkie swear!" That had Face smiling. Murdock smiled back. "So, what's in that gorgeous head of yours that's makin' you all sad and frowny?"

Face looked away, pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself against the icy air, and watched the street life going about their business for a moment. "I'm just worried about the kid, s'all."

Murdock snorted. "You mean it ain't anythin' to do with the fact that you kinda prostituted yourself to those guys, an' did it like a professional, then?"

Snapping wide eyes back to Murdock, Face stared at him. He felt his chest suddenly tighten.

"Or maybe is it 'cause you know that sweet ol' Mr A back at Millie's Motel?"

Face was speechless. But then, he should've known. For a crazy guy, Murdock was incredibly insightful, and saw everything. He could never hide from Murdock. Never.

"Way I see it, Facey, this case has sparked off some doozy's of old memories for you. Like fireworks. An' I'm talkin' the big sky busters here," Murdock said quietly. "'Cause you're actin' all kinds of weird. An' look at who's sayin' that." He rubbed his hands over Face's arms before flicking off his comm. unit. "I don't want the boss t'hear this, but..." he leaned in, "Everythin' what you were doin', Face, you've done it before, haven't you?"

Face swallowed. Yes, Murdock the ever perceptive. Right again. He lowered his eyes and nodded, mortified and ashamed that his best buddy now knew that he'd been a prostitute, a whore, sold his body for money, and Murdock would probably easily guess about all the low and depraved things he'd done, too.

"I... I had no choice," he tried to justify, his voice cracking.

"Hey, that's all in the past. A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," Murdock smiled sadly and gently lifted Face's chin. He sighed when he saw the desolate look in the normally vibrant blue eyes. "Don't worry, I won't tell bossman. But I think you should."

"What?" Face gasped horrified. "I can't do that! He... I'll lose him, James. An' I can't lose him, he's all I got."

"Well, I'll try not to take that personal like," Murdock grinned. He knew what Face meant and didn't take offence.

"You know what I mean," Face frowned. "If he found out that I'd... That I was... If he found out he'd be disgusted. I'm disgusting, foul... What I did, the things I did..." He finished by shaking his head unable to continue, before adding in a small, low whisper, "He wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore if he knew I was a whore."

Murdock's heart broke for the young man, so lost and scared inside his own head, baring his deepest, darkest secrets to him on a shady side of a cold Manhattan sidewalk. He cupped Face's cheek tenderly and spoke from his soul, "Never be ashamed of who you are, Templeton Peck. What you did in another lifetime, you did to survive, and I for one am glad you did, 'cause you wouldn't be here now, with us. We love you... Hannibal loves you like a son..."

Tears teetered on Face's lashes and he quickly swiped them away. "Thanks, buddy, an'... and I love you, too," he sighed sadly, "But I can't tell him."

What was spilling out of that box, like the evil of Pandora's, had to be put back and the box resealed. Because once out there in the world for all to see, the damage it would do would be irreparable.

And Face would lose everything.

oOo

"Face, get on the 'net and find out what you can about Kendall's," Hannibal said from the front seat of the SUV. Face grabbed the laptop and turned it on, almost on autopilot. He knew he was going deeper and deeper into the lion's den, with no safety net, and was powerless to stop it. Murdock leaned forward and watched the street lamps whizz by as BA drove towards Park Avenue and 85th.

"Hey, bossman, how 'bout you an' me take this one," he suggested tactfully, wanting Face to stay behind, stay safe. "We done nothin' but drink coffee an' eat sugary doughnuts all day, I think I've got a sugar high."

Hannibal lit up a cigar and rolled down his window when BA growled at him. "We'll see." He turned to Face. "Anything yet, kid?"

"Yeah, Kendall's, formally known as The Club, is owned by a man called..." He paused, blinking at the name. The name of the man who'd drawn up _his_ contract back when he was a teenager, the contract that said his ass was well and truly owned. A name Face had tried so hard to forget.

"Face?" Hannibal prompted.

"Oh, um... Jackson McCain. Looks like he lives on the premises," Face said, "Has the penthouse suite."

"Kendall's is a brothel?" Murdock mused curiously. Face shook his head.

"No. An escort agency. High class, expensive."

"Alright. We need to find Charles. Face, you and BA go in, look around, ask a few discreet questions, see if you can hire Charles as an escort tonight," Hannibal decided. Murdock sighed. "Me and Murdock will check out the back. Don't talk to McCain, I want to do that myself. Meet back at the SUV in ten."

BA pulled up in an alley near Kendall's and they all jumped out.

oOo

Compared to Millie's, Kendall's had changed _a lot_. It was very tastefully decorated now, none of that garish gold brocade Face remembered from before when it was The Club. Soothing, soft music filled the rooms, and the 'employee's' were all very beautiful, and silent.

Neither Face nor BA could get anyone they saw to talk.

"May I help you?"

BA spun around to see a petite brunette smiling up at him. She was easily in her late forties, and BA guessed was part of the admin staff.

"Do you see something you like?" she asked, her eyes carefully sizing the big guy up. BA shifted uncomfortably.

"I-"

"Aw now, don't be shy, sugar," she smiled sweetly.

BA quickly glanced about to see if he could see Face, but the kid wasn't in sight. "Um..."

"You want a companion for tonight?"

"Yeah," the big guy grunted. The woman smiled widely.

"Excellent. So, boy, girl?"

"Boy. Young," BA frowned, intensely uncomfortable now. He pictured the photograph of Charles in his head and reeled off the particulars of his preference. His hostess sighed ruefully.

"Ah, I'm sorry, we do have a young man that we could accommodate you with, but he's currently otherwise engaged. Can I interest you in-"

Fuck. "No. I'mma fussy man," BA interrupted, just as Face came into view.

"C'mon, man, this is a-" Face stopped and blinked at the intense stare from the small woman next to his friend. He unconsciously blushed at the blatant stripping she was doing with her eyes.

"Well, you are just adorable, handsome," she purred and grinned at him. "My name is Hilda, but you can call me Hilly, sweet boy."

Face took her hand and gave it a small shake. Hilda turned back to BA.

"Is he yours?"

"Wha'?"

"Ah, yeah..." Face stepped in, immediately blindly latching onto an impromptu plan, ignoring his inner voices screaming at him that it was a spectacularly bad one. "This is Clancy. My pimp."

"Welcome, Clancy. Again I am sorry we can't accommodate you at this time, but maybe we can help in another way?" she asked still looking at Face.

BA blinked shocked at what Face was doing. "T-thank you, um... how?" he grunted and stared at his team mate.

"My pimp is wondering if you have any vacancies," Face said and lowered his eyes in submission. Hilda's face lit up.

"Excellent! I think we can find something for you, my beautiful boy," Hilda said silkily. She sat down on a simple, but plush, cream sofa, motioning her guests to do so, too. "Tell me, dear boy, you do swing both ways, right? Because..." Hilda groaned softly as she looked Face up and down again. "I know my male clients would _love_ to have a piece of that sweet, tight looking ass."

Suppressing a shiver of revulsion, Face forced out a knowing grin and winked at her. "Oh yeah, I swing _every_ way," he purred. Hilda grinned back and turned to look at BA again.

"Then, let me draw up a contract. Mr McCain is out of town at the moment, but I can discuss our terms of sale. Clancy, if you don't mind?" Hilda asked as she rose and walked towards her office. BA looked up, confused. Face quickly motioned to him to follow her.

"Whatchoo doin', fool?" he hissed at Face before he left him.

"Going in undercover," Face hissed back with an exasperated look, like the big guy should have realised. And with McCain out of town, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. But BA growled at him clearly not pleased with his plan. Again.

"I don't like this, Face, an' I _know_ Hannibal ain't gonna either!"

"Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we, BA?" Face muttered. He knew these people. Knew how they worked, how they kept to themselves, didn't talk to just _anyone_ about anything, especially other escorts.

Being one of them was their only chance of finding Charles.

BA grunted and narrowed his eyes at Face. He knew the kid was right, but he didn't have to like it. This case was one of the worst he done and BA couldn't wait until it was over, because Face was scaring him. And BA didn't like feeling scared.

"Ah, Clancy," Hilda smiled and handed him the 'contract'. It was elegantly printed out on thick parchment, complete with a wax seal at the bottom. BA raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of it all when Hilda handed him a feather quill. "If you'd fill in the boy's name and sign at the bottom," she smiled.

The big guy read the contract, his chest horribly constricting at the words. Ownership, sale, waiver of rights... It was a slave business. He forced his hand to cooperate and scribbled the first name that came to mind on the document, then paused before signing it.

"Payment?" he enquired and the woman grinned and held out a wad of dollar notes.

"We pay twenty thousand for someone of..." she glanced at the contract, "James' age. A good price. Agreed? As per our terms of sale, you are relinquished of all rights to James. He's now our property for the rest of his natural life."

Nodding, BA scrawled the name 'Clancy' on the contract and took the money. The wide, satisfied smile on the woman's face disgusted him and he grunted.

oOo

Face sat silently lost in his thoughts as BA signed away his life – again. Memories of the exact same moment years ago, when he was a cocky young teenager, filtered through his mind and he involuntarily shivered...

"_What's your name?" McCain asked, his dark eyes constantly undressing the young boy. Templeton shrugged, used to that kind of lurid attention. _

"_Chris." _

"_Chris what?" the man frowned, quill poised. Templeton could see the impatience growing in the wrinkles forming around McCain's mouth. The man leaned back and regarded the young boy, who insisted he was eighteen, but didn't look a day over fifteen. The young teen was going to make his agency a lot of money, and McCain suddenly didn't really care what his name was. "You know, you're the seventh Chris we've had here," he mused._

_Templeton cocked his head to the side. "Call me that then," he suggested, knowing full well the man knew his name was fake, but not caring in the slightest._

"_Okay, Chris Seven it is then."_

"_Whatever," Templeton mumbled and McCain looked up and narrowed his eyes._

"_I hope you're not going to be surly with the clients," he said quietly, but Templeton heard the threat clearly. He smiled his perfected shit eating grin, the one that could disarm nearly everyone he met._

"_Don't worry, I'm a professional."_

_McCain was immune though and he shoved the contract forward and held out the quill to the young boy. "By signing this, Chris, you're signing your life over to me. You work for me. I own you. Are we clear?"_

_Templeton's hand paused, but then he figured what the hell did he have to lose, and signed away his life. _

_In twelve months, he was going to disappear and join the army anyway._

_But he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that he'd just sold his soul to the devil himself._

And Face still couldn't shake that feeling. He stood when BA and Hilda walked out of the office, the look on the big guys face was unreadable.

"See ya around, James Smith," BA said, surreptitiously letting Face know what his name was now, and that he had to leave and Face had to stay.

Face watched as BA left, without looking back. A heavy sensation of dread turned his stomach at the thought of Hannibal finding out what he'd done, then a moment of panic washed over him... he'd forgotten to turn his comm. unit back on.

"James, this way," Hilda smiled and motioned Face to follow her into the depths of the agency. He fiddled with his comm., flicking it on, and stuck his finger in his left ear, wondering why the little device wasn't working, when he suddenly remembered he'd taken it out and forgotten to put it back in. Jesus, Hannibal was going to kill him. He felt the little device in his pocket and sighed in relief.

"We'll be going up to the sixth floor, James," Hilda smiled, pushing the elevator button. "You'll be staying in a room up there until we can get you set up with an apartment. I already have a number of clients that would _love_ to meet you."

Face forced out an eager smile until his teeth hurt.

"Mr McCain will meet you in a few days. He likes to vet the new employees personally," she said and looked away. Face cringed. Yes, he remembered that bit, too. The slimy bastard had taken him hard over his desk.

"Here we are!"

The room was small, but adequate, with a bed, washroom facilities and a small table with a coffee maker and a telephone in the centre of it.

"You'll have a meal delivered at six AM, and we expect you to be up and ready for work then. We need to take a couple of photographs for our catalogue, and then you'll be meeting your first client at eleven," she informed him, already having work lined up for Face in her mind. "Sleep well."

Face closed the door and shoved the small receiver in his ear and immediately winced. Hannibal's angry, concerned and aggravated voice instantly grated Face's already fragile nerves.

"_Face! Fuck, kid! Fuckin' answer me!"_

Face closed his eyes and swallowed. He could hear BA growling over the comm. too, and knew the big guy would've told Hannibal everything... fucked up plan and all.

"_If you don't answer in the nest two sec-"_

"Boss," Face interrupted preparing himself for the inevitable tirade.

"_What the fuck are you doin'?"_ Hannibal's voice nearly screeched. Face sat on the bed and sighed.

"Look, Hannibal, trust me-"

"_Trust you? Trust you?"_ Hannibal roared into his ear and Face felt his heart thunder painfully in his chest. Didn't the boss trust him? _"It's not about trust, Face... You were only supposed to go in and get information! In and out, kid!"_

"Yes, I know, but no one would talk to us! I told you, boss, if they don't know me, they won't trust me to talk to me! And Charles is still missing! We don't have a choice here."

An exasperated growl sounded in his ear and Face hoped that Hannibal was beginning to see the fucked up logic behind his fucked up plan. Face knew this world, he _knew_ these kinds of people, only Hannibal didn't know that, and that was starting to be a huge problem.

"Look, boss," Face started, praying he wasn't making a mistake, "Trust me, please."

There was a quick muffle of voices, with Murdock's Texan drawl hissing over BA's grunts, and soon Hannibal was back. _"Sit tight, kid, I have a plan,"_ he said over the comm., _"And this time, stay in contact!"_

oOo

"Welcome Mr..." Hilda smiled sweetly as Hannibal strolled into the lobby of Kendall's, looking like a wealthy business man.

"Ah, the name's Stanton. William Stanton," he introduced himself and held out his hand. Hilda took it lightly and nodded.

"Well, welcome to Kendall's, Mr Stanton. My name is Hilda. How can we help you this evening?"

Hannibal smiled and sat down, loosening his tie and flicking his hair to the side, praying the cosmetic glue would hold and his dark brown wig wouldn't fly off. "Thank you, Hilda. I'm looking for some evening entertainment," he told her, his voice on the deliberate soft side.

"I don't believe we have seen you before, Mr Stanton," Hilda said. "How did you hear about Kendall's?"

"Call me Willy," Hannibal winked, "And a friend of mine told me about your place, and had nothing but good things to say about it! Needless to say, he wishes to remain anonymous. Discretion, an' all that."

"Of course," Hilda nodded. "May I ask, do you have something in mind?"

"Ooooh, yes. I'd love a young man – but not too young. Tall, athletic build, handsome... not that I'm shallow, but..." he winked and Hilda laughed. "Oh, and blue eyes. I adore blue eyes. Reminds me of my dear departed partner."

Hilda cocked her head in thought. Craig fit that profile, but he was with an appointment. Cameron was off sick after an enthusiastic client, who was a little _too_ enthusiastic. Tim was as near as, but his eyes were grey... "I think I have the perfect man for you, Willy," she suddenly smiled. "Would you wait here for a few moments?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hannibal nodded with a grin.

oOo

Face was pacing his small room when the 'phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"_Ah, James. Get dressed, you'll find clothes in the closet, I have a client for you,"_ Hilda's shrill voice ordered him.

"Okay," he replied.

"_Be in my office in ten__._ Don't _be late!"_

The closet did indeed have clothes in it, he'd already checked, and Face quickly threw together something that would appeal to a high class client wanting sex. Because that's what he was now. A whore.

Ten minutes later, Face was in Hilda's office watching Hannibal and Hilda engaged in sickly sweet small talk as the disguised colonel paid an obscene amount of cash for a night of solicited sex with a whore.

With Face.

oOo

"I don't like what you're doing, Face," Hannibal grumbled as they climbed into the SUV.

"I don't like it, either, boss," Face agreed, "But the only way to find Charles is to get these people to trust us. And then they'll talk. I checked around at Kendall's, no one knows where he is."

"No one has even seen him?" Murdock frowned. Surely the kid hadn't just disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Murdock wasn't sure that was even possible.

"That's what I'm sayin'. No one is talkin'!" Face repeated. Hannibal blew out a long breath and looked at Face, now dressed in a smart suit and looked devilishly handsome, but knowing that he'd just paid a stranger to have sex with him, with money that had been used to _sell_ Face, made Hannibal feel sick.

"The sooner we find this kid, the better," Murdock grumbled, and BA concurred with a grunt.

oOo

"I have to go back tomorrow," Face said as Hannibal sat by him on one of the two queen sized beds in their Radisson suite. Face had his lap top on his knee, researching everything he could about Kendall's and Jackson McCain before they went out later that night to resume their search. The older man paused and looked at Face leaning up against the bed head.

"Tell me you're kidding," he groaned. Murdock looked up from his cartoon on the TV and chewed his thumb nail.

"Those fuckers at Millie's said Charles works out of Kendall's. It's the only real lead we have. We can look and ask questions, freezing our butts off on the street all night but it makes sense for me to go back, boss. Charles is out there, and Kendall's is the best place to find him," Face reasoned. But it still didn't sit well for Hannibal.

His kid was not a whore!

"What happens when you're ordered to service a client before we find Charles, huh?" the colonel asked and Murdock's eyes widened. "What then?"

"I..." Face stuttered.

"Because you might think you're good in bed an' all, but you're no whore, Face, and stupid plans like this will get you killed!"

The sound of a toilet flushing announced BA's return to the room and silence descended. The big guy frowned at the scene, before deciding to join Murdock on the small sofa and turning the TV up.

Hannibal turned back to Face and sighed. He gently rubbed the kid's arm. "I know you were on the streets as a teenager yourself, and I know this case has to be getting to you, but..." he said gently, "You don't have to put yourself through this. It's not you, son. We'll find another way."

Face closed his eyes, deeply frustrated at the fact that after everything Hannibal had heard, he still believed that Face had been this poor, innocent, unfortunate kid, who'd survived a shitty childhood, homeless on the New York streets, and came out of it all unscathed and undamaged.

But life was not a fairytale, and Face was more damaged than he cared to think about.

"You survived out there on the streets, and I'm so proud of you and thankful, because you wouldn't be here with us today. And I love you, kid, and hate to see you do this to yourself. You don't need to sink to those levels, son. You don't need to whore yourself for the job. I can't imagine what Charles is going through at the moment," Hannibal sighed sadly, then added with a smile, "but like I said, to survive out there like you did, makes me so proud."

Face wept inside. Proud? Oh God...

Hannibal was far from finished though, "You're an amazing man, Tem, and have a beautiful, innocent soul..."

Face's resolve finally cracked and he jerked away. "Would you just stop?" he cried desperately.

Hannibal stared wide eyed at him, as did BA and Murdock. Face raised an accusing finger at his Hannibal, his body shaking, his mind in turmoil... he didn't want to do this, oh God, he didn't want to do this...

"You... you think I'm this, this sweet, uncorrupted kid, that I'm innocent?" he asked slightly manic, but didn't wait for his answer, "Well, I got news for you, Hannibal, I'm so far from innocent it disgusts even me!"

Hannibal's mouth opened, confused at the kid's sudden emotional outburst. "Face-"

"Oh, c'mon, boss, it didn't even occur to you?" Face interrupted, on a roll now. "Not even when I was pickin' up those three motherfucker's so they could drill my ass?"

Fragments of that conversation slammed into the forefront of Hannibal's mind... Gang bang, bareback... His eyes widened as he remembered how eat ease Face was with the terms.

An incredulous look passed over Face's features and he laughed, the wretched, humourless noise making the others wince. He looked over at Murdock and gave him a small defeated smile. For the sake of the job, and young Charles, he was going to lose his friend, his surrogate father and reason to live. It didn't matter what Murdock had said, if he told Hannibal, he knew he'd lose him.

"I know this world, John, because I was a part of it once. I'm a whore," he confessed, his eyes falling to the floor and staying there. Silence filled the room as each member of the team processed that shocking confession.

Murdock watched Face carefully, because he'd already guessed and had accepted it. What was done, was done, life was too short and all that, etcetera, ad infinitum... Face was still Face and his best friend, nothing would ever change that. He just prayed that BA, and especially the colonel would think that, too.

BA frowned hard and scowled at all the shit life had thrown at Face, and thought it was a miracle the kid had turned out so normal... well, for a seriously talented conman, accomplished liar and ex-Ranger on the run, anyway. He still loved the young man like a brother, still respected him, still trusted him with his life. What Face had just told them didn't change any of that.

Hannibal just stared at Face. Shocked at his confession. His mind was in turmoil, screaming at him that it didn't matter, he still loved Face, but how could the kid keep this from him? A part of Hannibal felt betrayed, another was appalled, repulsed... It all started to become morbidly clear, _why_ Face was so damned talented at flirting with women, and it made Hannibal feel sick to his stomach. He stood up, walked silently to the bathroom, and locked the door.

Face's heart shattered into a million tiny pieces when he heard the latch on the door lock. His eyes filled and tears ran unnoticed down his cheeks. It was over. He'd lost Hannibal. Face didn't know how long he stood looking at the closed door, but let Murdock lead him away to the sofa. He felt numb, cold, dead inside.

"Facey?" Murdock's soft voice washed over him, but he couldn't muster the strength to even look at his best friend. He felt BA's large hand on his shoulder and closed his eyes, silently sobbing, already mourning the life he knew he was foolish enough to think he could ever really have had.

Because, life is not a fairytale and there are never any happy endings. Not for him.

oOo

In the bathroom, Hannibal rinsed his mouth out and stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn't believe what Face had told them. He didn't _want_ to believe it. His boy, a whore... No! The idea was ludicrous. Face was a virtuous, moral, upstanding, beautiful man... He would never...

Hannibal sighed heavily. There was so much of Face's life he _didn't_ know about. He knew the kid was an orphan, a runaway, and had been homeless on these streets. He knew of the temptation out there, and for someone as pretty as a young Templeton Peck, when it came down to life or death, the boy _would_ have chosen life, and done anything to survive. Because Templeton was also a survivor.

He didn't blame the kid for the choices he'd made, when they weren't really 'choices', and it was true when he'd said that he was proud of him. Hannibal just had trouble accepting that Face had lied to him. All this time.

But then why had Face kept this secret? Hannibal didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out, and he closed his eyes. Of course the kid would have wanted to block that part of his life out, lock it up in a box in his mind, throw away the key, forget it even existed... That is, until a stupid, selfish bastard like Hannibal came along and picked and picked and picked at it with a job until the fractured memories inside came spilling out and slowly poisoned Face.

And Hannibal knew exactly what the kid was thinking now. He'd known him for years, practically raised him from his late teens, and knew that he carried the weight of guilt on his shoulders too easily, and now Face was thinking Hannibal didn't want him. That he was dirty, damaged... a whore, and he would never want to know him now. Never. But Face couldn't be further away from the truth if he tried. Whatever Face had done in his life, Hannibal still loved him dearly as a father would his son.

Standing up, Hannibal dried his hands and blew out a breath. It would take him a while to sort through his own issues over this, but they were _his_ issues, not Face's.

He was angry with himself, for not seeing what was so blatantly obvious when Face had taken on the persona of a prostitute for this job. How disturbingly easy he'd fallen into the role. Thinking back to the awful things he'd said to Face, called his plan reckless, careless, and not trusting him... it made him weep inside. His stupid and irrational anger at the kid for not following the plan, and the rage he felt deep down clouded his judgement, and he missed seeing Face's distress, his anguish. He knew something was wrong, and he hated himself now for not being quicker to understand.

He was a damn fool.

The kid had known the old guy at the motel, too. Hannibal realised that, even back then with the kid's little slip, calling the man Mr A. An easy familiarity, he knew, that Face had never used before. The man had called him Chris, given him his usual room... BA had told him that bit with a little uncomfortable snarl.

The clues had all been there, Hannibal had just been too damn blind to see them, and he still sent Face deeper into the lion's den, facing the beast alone.

oOo

Murdock looked up when Hannibal came out of the bathroom. He was by himself.

"Where's Face?" Hannibal frowned, feeling that irrational anger bubble up again at the thought that the kid was off doing something else reckless and dangerous.

"Um, he, ah, went out for some air," Murdock hedged, worrying the skin on the thumb nail he was chewing earlier. Hannibal blew out a breath and rubbed his face with his hands. God, he'd fucked up. The pilot cleared his throat and quietly added, "BA's with him."

Thank God.

"You wanna talk about it, bossman?" Murdock offered and turned the TV off, throwing the suite into an uneasy silence. He could see Hannibal's inner turmoil as clear as a stormy day, with the winds violently twisting. The colonel sighed and sat on the sofa next to his pilot. "He still loves you," the Texan said softly.

"I know," Hannibal answered looking down and feeling like crap.

"Do you still love him?"

Looking back up sharply, Hannibal blinked. "Of course I do," he insisted.

Murdock smiled. He moved closer and rubbed the colonel's arm. "You need to tell him that. He thinks you don't want him anymore."

Hannibal heard the unsaid context clearly. Face thinks he's dirty. Used goods. Sullied. Disgusting. A whore. "He couldn't further than the truth, kid," the colonel whispered sadly.

"Really? Well, I'd like to think that, too, bossman, but..." Murdock stopped and looked hard at Hannibal. "Does it matter?"

"What?"

"That Face did those things when he was a kid?" Murdock clarified.

"No," Hannibal shook his head and studied his fingers. "He did what he did to survive."

"But...?" Damn, Murdock was perceptive!

Hannibal looked at him and pursed his lips, suddenly wishing he had a cigar to aggressively chew on. Eventually he sighed and looked away again, wondering about Face and where he was, what he was doing, even though he knew he was safe with BA by his side.

"You're thinkin' about all those people he slept with, ain't ya?" Murdock pressed.

The discomfort Hannibal felt was intense, Murdock was right. He stood up and started pacing. But Murdock wasn't finished. The pilot watched the colonel, his eyes darting back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match.

"You gotta remember, Hannibal, they were just the job. A means to an end. Rent money. The difference between eatin' an' starvin'."

Simple logic. Why couldn't Hannibal accept that?

"What's in the past should stay in the past," the pilot said philosophically. "A psychologist said that to me once. Wise man."

Hannibal stopped pacing and stood, hands on his hips, eyes to the floor. "It's hard, HM," he confessed softly. "I don't blame Face for the shit life threw at him, but I can't stop feeling... betrayed."

Murdock leaned forward and pinned Hannibal with a serious glare. "Well, you'd better stop feelin' that, 'cause you ain't been betrayed," he said with a frown. "Facey's got enough issues as it is, he don't need your crap on top of 'em, too." He stood up and faced the colonel, looked into his eyes and smiled sadly. "He loves you, John, he needs you in his life. Tell him you still love him, no matter what."

Nodding, Hannibal knew Murdock was right. Face was going through hell at the moment, and it was all his fault. He had to put it right. He picked up his jacket, smiled thankfully at Murdock and left the suite in search of his boy.

oOo

BA walked silently next to Face as they strolled down the street. He could see the kid lost in his own mind, desolation etched into his handsome features, making him look drawn and wretched. His heart went out to him. Life had dealt Face a cruel hand indeed, but he'd fought back and won. It didn't matter what he'd done, how he'd done it, just that he had.

He heard the kid sigh and suddenly wanted to pound something for the pain he knew Face was feeling. A deep hurt with no relief.

"BA."

The softly spoken voice behind him made him startle, but he quickly composed himself and turned around. "Whatchoo want, fool?" he growled not caring if he was being insubordinate or not. The fool deserved it.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes but decided not to call BA on his lack of respect to a superior officer. Even though they weren't officially in the army now, rank still played a major part in their lives. Instead he patted the big guy on the shoulder. "Thanks for watchin' out for him, BA, I'll take over. I need to talk to him. Fix this," he murmured. BA paused but nodded satisfied Hannibal appeared sincere in his intentions.

Face turned when he heard his name called, his chest instantly going hot and cold at once as the emotions fought inside him, hope warring with dread. He looked at his... what? Ex-friend? Ex-colonel?

He truly didn't know anymore.

"We need to talk," Hannibal said and gently led Face to a doorway away from the night bustle of the street. Face went obediently, having no urge to argue. Hannibal waited a beat and then said, "I'm sorry."

That got Face's full attention. A confused look replaced the devastated one he'd been wearing and he frowned at Hannibal.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that, son," Hannibal carried on. "I'm sorry I didn't see what you were going through, and I should have." He paused as a flash of hope lit up Face's blue eyes. "I love you. And I don't care what you did in the past," he said earnestly, "because right now is what's important."

Tears filled Face's eyes and he leaned into the hug Hannibal offered. He could feel the ice in his heart melting as the warmth of Hannibal's love seeped into him. "Seriously?" he asked, hope building.

"Oh yes," Hannibal answered and rubbed Face's back. "You could've told me, you know, Tem. I wish you had."

Face lowered his eyes and shook his head. "No, I couldn't. I don't even like me back then. The things I did... I just wanna forget them all, John. I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice small and lost.

They stood in the doorway silently for a few minutes as Hannibal held Face, hoping the young man could feel the depth of what he felt for him. Face meant so much to him. And even though he fucked up sometimes and let his stubborn mind get the better of him, Hannibal would never leave him.

And it finally occurred to him that the past really didn't matter. Life was about the here and now. And what Hannibal had right here, right now mattered the world to him.

oOo

Both BA and Murdock looked up expectantly as the door opened and in walked the other half of their team. The smile curving Face's lips told them everything, and they both grinned at each other.

"Pizza," the big guy announced and pointed to the large flat box on his lap. Face leaned over and opened it, inhaling the spicy aroma appreciatively.

Murdock bounced up onto the bed. "So, you guys okay, now?"

Looking across at the bouncing man, Hannibal smiled, which seemed to be the answer the pilot wanted and he jumped from one bed to the other and back again. Face blinked and turned to BA.

"Coca Cola?"

"No. Dr Pepper," BA grunted.

"Ah," Face nodded and helped himself to a slice of pizza. "God, I'm starved!"

"Well, eat up 'cause we're goin' back out there in twenty minutes," Hannibal said around a mouth full of food. "We'll split up, two an' two, then take shifts, two hours each. Me an' Face'll do two 'til four. BA, you an' Murdock do four 'til six. We'll meet back here then and go stake out Kendall's in case Charles returns early after an appointment. Okay?"

They all nodded, and Murdock jumped off the bed. He sat next to BA and grinned, the sugar high from the soda making his eyes sparkle. BA moaned.

"Aw man, Hannibal, I hafta go with the crazy fool?"

"Bosco, you wound me!" Murdock exaggerated with a swoon. BA grunted and shoved the man away. "C'mon, big guy, it'll be fun! You an' me, me an' you! Lot's an' lots for us to do!"

Face chuckled as BA held his head in his hands trying to block out Murdock's animated singing. He turned to Hannibal. "I still have to go back, boss," he murmured softly.

"If we don't find Charles first," Hannibal finally accepted.

oOo

By eight AM there was still no sign of the missing boy, and the team were still no further in finding any information as to his whereabouts. Hannibal frowned hard and pulled out his cell... he had to check in with his client, Charles' father, Clayton Briggs.

Shit.

"Mr Briggs," the colonel said into the cell. "We've had no luck yet in finding your son, but we are acting on a very strong lead." The pause was long enough for the team to contemplate that Briggs was far from happy with that news. "I understand, Briggs, but-" Hannibal scowled and flicked his cell off.

"Problem?" Murdock asked.

"Oh, he's not a happy camper," Hannibal grumbled. And that was the tempered version. Briggs was furious with their lack of progress. Every second Charles was out there was another second that could embarrass Briggs and ruin his reputation, but he'd cut Hannibal off before the colonel could contradict him, tell him that his sons life was more important than his fucking career. Clayton Briggs was a grade A schmuck. Hannibal turned to Face and sighed. "Okay, kid, ball's in your court. What do you wanna do?"

"I'll go back, snoop around and be back before eleven," Face nodded. Hannibal frowned.

"What happens at eleven?"

"I ah... I apparently have an appointment booked with a client," Face said quietly. Both BA and Murdock stared and Hannibal cursed. "I'll be back before then, with or without Charles."

"Better be," BA grunted, voicing what the others were thinking too.

Face climbed out of the SUV, hunched his shoulders against the bitter early morning cold, and headed towards Kendall's, checking his comm. unit and earpiece were firmly in place and working, and his Glock was safely in the back of his pants.

"Sound check, guys," he murmured halfway to the agency. He smiled as soon as he heard Murdock.

"_New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there's nothing you can't do!"_ He heard BA wrestle the unit away from the pilot and hid a grin when Murdock's voice carried on, "_Now you're in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new... BA! I was singin'!"_

"_Knock it off, boys,"_ Hannibal's voice overrode the scuffle in the back ground. _"You're good, kid. Be careful."_

"Will do, boss," Face answered and walked through the door of Kendall's.

oOo

"Ah, James, my boy," Hilda smiled when Face walked in. "I trust Mr Stanton was a very satisfied customer?"

"Yes, ma'am," Face nodded. She led him to a small room.

"Might as well do your mug shots while you have that fresh just fucked look... makes you glow," she purred, devouring him with her eyes. Face rolled his eyes, the 'fresh fucked look' was more like an 'early morning frosty wind' look. Opening a closet, Hilda quickly picked out a simple black wife beater and black leather pants and handed the garments to Face. "Change into these, kid. We want our clients to have the pick of the very best Manhattan has to offer in our services. And we do offer the very best services, don't we James?"

Face took the clothes and nodded. Hilda disappeared behind a screen to fiddle with a camera and he took the opportunity to change quickly, safely stashing the comm. unit and his gun in his socks alongside his cell phone.

Hilda returned with her camera, smiled widely and posed Face like a mannequin to her perverse satisfaction. "Say 'fuck me hard'," she grinned and pressed the shutter. The flash blinded him for a second and he blinked rapidly. She took a few more pictures, before announcing, "Okay, sweet-cheeks, all done! I'll have Tony fetch you some breakfast and then you can rest until your next appointment. Dress very casual, wear something loose and low cut, and don't bother with underwear. Mr Sheldon likes it when his boys go commando."

A shiver of revulsion ran through him at the lewd kinks some of the male clients liked, but he quickly hid it, picked up the suit and made his way up to his room.

As soon as he knew he was alone, Face bypassed his room and started looking for clues to the whereabouts of Charles Briggs. He bumped into a young girl, barely out of her teens, and smiled warmly.

"You the new guy?" she asked, her accent foreign, British. Face nodded.

"Yeah. James," he introduced himself and held out his hand. She smiled and shook it, before suddenly holding it tight and pulling him close.

"Take some advice, James, get out of here, as soon as you can," she hissed urgently. Face frowned. What was going on?

oOo

Face followed the girl into her room and closed the door. He looked around and assumed the place to be bugged, so he urged her into the tiny, cramped shower stall. The girl, confused and a little curious as to what was happening, went willingly.

"What's your name?" asked Face softly.

"Opal," she said and narrowed her eyes. "You know, management frowns on its escorts getting down and dirty together. It kind of ruins the merchandise for the clients."

"Don't worry, Opal, I just wanna ask you a couple of questions, that's all," Face reassured her. Opal's face fell.

"Oh, that's a shame, because you're pretty hot," she murmured against his lips, her nimble fingers finding and rubbing along his flaccid length through his leather pants. Face pulled back and stilled the fingers.

"What exactly is goin' on here? Why should I leave as soon as possible?" he asked seriously. Opal sighed and let her head fall back with a dull thud against tiled wall, her bleached-blond curls bouncing.

"People here go missing. Slave trade, I suspect. Since I've been here, at least six kids have disappeared," she said miserably.

"I'm sorry," Face offered softly. "Can I ask why you...?"

"How long I've been here? Why I'm still here?" Opal finished wearily. Face nodded. "Six months, give or take, and I'm still here because I'm popular. My diary is always booked. I'm bloody good at what I do," she said and looked at him defiantly daring him to disagree. Face sighed. He knew what she meant. The best escorts were always in high demand.

He also knew how she felt. Deep down inside. Cold and lonely. Like life had simply forgotten about her, and all hope had gone.

"Are you happy here, Opal?" Face asked and instantly regretted the dumb, thoughtless question when the girl scowled at him.

"What? You think I enjoy fucking total strangers for money?" she hissed angrily. "Money I never see, incidentally."

"Then why stay?" Face countered. He'd got out.

"Because they have my passport, make sure they provide just enough for me to survive, and..." she paused, fear filling her eyes. "They said they'd find me if I ever left. I'm stuck here."

Christ. They had to help these kids. He closed his arms around Opal and hugged her close.

"I can help you," he murmured softly. "I have friends, we can help you."

"You can't help me," she said numbly, but Face looked at her sternly.

"Yes we can," he said sincerely and her eyes widened. And she let herself believe him. Face smiled, and then asked, "Have you seen a kid called Charlie here? About sixteen, dark hair, green eyes?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where is he?" Face asked quickly. Opal shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a couple of days. Jesse was the last person to see him. Why?"

Instead of answering her query, Face asked, "Where can I find Jesse?"

"Probably at his place by now. He has a third floor apartment near Grand Central Station. Building called Hallam Towers," she told him with a curious look.

"Apartment number?" Face pressed.

"307. What's going on?"

Face ignored her and reached into his sock, pulling out the cell phone and quickly dialling Hannibal.

"_Face?"_ Hannibal's frustrated, concerned voice immediately answered

"Yeah, boss, sorry. I had to go radio silent for a while," Face winced. There was a beat of ominous quiet.

"_You compromised?"_ Hannibal asked lowly.

"No. Listen," Face said changing the subject. "I have an address. Apartment 307, Hallam Towers, near Grand Central Station. Man name of Jesse. He might've been the last person to see Charles."

"_Okay, got it,"_ Hannibal murmured, and then asked, "_What's goin' on there, Face?"_

Face blew out a breath. "Human trafficking, boss. Looks like McCain is selling kids to the highest bidder."

Hannibal growled down the phone. It was time for Face to leave that place._"Right. Get out of there, kid."_

"Hannibal-"

"_Now, lieutenant. We'll meet you back at the Radisson in two hours."_

"Yes, sir," Face said and ended the call. He looked at Opal and waited.

"Who are you?" she asked slowly.

"Someone who _can_ help," Face smiled. He checked his watch, still time to snoop around, just in case 'Jesse' was another dead end. "Which room was Charlie's?"

oOo

Hallam Towers was an average apartment building, with eight floors. The team walked in and made their way to 307, to find Jesse luckily at home. He answered the door looking thoroughly exhausted and pissed off.

"What the fuck do you want?" he grunted through the gap, the door chain still firmly in place.

"Jesse?" Hannibal asked. The young man nodded. "I just need a moment of your time."

"Yeah, well, I just got off night shift and I'm fucked, so some other time," Jesse grumbled irritably and started to close the door. BA wedged his foot in the way.

"Man said he wanted to talk, fool," the big guy growled and Jesse, wide eyed, swallowed hard.

"I understand you're tired, this will just take a moment," Hannibal smiled through the gap. He turned to Murdock, who handed him Charles' photograph. "Have you seen this boy?"

Jesse quickly unchained the door and the three men walked in.

"Yeah, that's Charlie," he said. His eyes grew fearful. "Is he okay?"

"We don't know," Murdock answered. "Do you know where he is?"

Jesse scratched his chest and dragged his fingers through his auburn hair. "God, I told the kid to go back home," he murmured to himself. "This life is no life for him. He's too young, too innocent..."

"Jesse, focus," Hannibal snapped. "Where is he?"

"Last I saw him was yesterday morning. Jackson had arranged an appointment out of town and he, and the boss were waiting for the town car."

"Out of town?" BA repeated, Jesse nodded.

"He looked so scared," the young man said softly and sat down. "Hilda told me who Charlie was meeting, and he was right to look scared."

Jesus, that sounded bad. Hannibal looked over at his team, and then back at Jesse. "Who's the client?"

Jesse shuddered. "A businessman by the name of Nadir Abdul. Rich bastard who has some seriously perverted kinks," he said like he knew from personal experience. Hannibal laid his hand on the man's shoulder.

"You got an address?"

Jesse got up and disappeared into his bedroom for a minute, before returning with a business card for one Nadir Abdul, proprietor of Slam – an extremely popular and successful exclusive nightclub, complete with an address and contact telephone numbers. Hannibal grinned.

"Thank you," he said and the team started to leave. Jesse stepped forward.

"Get Charlie out of this life if you can," he said. "He's a good kid and deserves better than this."

"We'll try," Hannibal offered, and the team left.

oOo

Charlie's room was a mirror image of his own... single divan, small washroom, table by the wall. There was nothing else that might denote a sixteen year old staying there. It was a bleak room. Face checked around quickly and efficiently, but found nothing. Absolutely nothing, like Charles didn't even exist. He was about to go and find Opal again to see if he had the right room, when the girl walked in.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "There's nothing left."

"What?"

She swallowed. "Charlie had a couple of pictures, one of his mum, one of his himself as a kid with a friend." She pointed to the light fitting. "He made a mobile out of coloured paper and hung it there." She looked around slowly, tears filling her eyes. "They took him, too?"

Face held her close, rubbing his hands over her back. "We'll find him, Opal," he murmured. Pulling away and holding her weepy gaze, he asked, "Do you want to leave here?"

She stared at him for a moment before quickly nodding, hope flaring in her wide brown eyes. "For real?"

"For real," Face answered with a smile.

"But... my passport, money-"

"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of everything." He let her go, pulled on his suit jacket and took the gun from his sock. Opal's eyes widened. "Go pack your stuff, kid, we're leavin'."

After checking the corridor, Face conducted a last quick search for more anything else that might give them a clue to Charles' whereabouts, and Opal returned to her room, meeting him within minutes with a small bag of personal items. Face looked at it sadly remembering exactly what he'd taken with him when he'd left... nothing.

Taking her hand, gun now back in his pants, they started down the fire escape, bypassing the lifts, heading towards the exit.

But even with the doors in sight, freedom was unfortunately not to be had.

"James! Opal?" Hilda called out loudly, her voice stern. Both stopped in their tracks when three men blocked their way. Face blew out a breath and closed his eyes. Shit.

"Hilly-"

"Shut up, Opal," Hilda snapped eyeing the small bag in her hand. "Where are you going?"

The question was threatening, but Face coolly met her gaze dead on and carefully inched in front of the young girl. Neither answered.

"Well, in that case, Opal, back to your room. Mr Vasilov will be waiting for you at two," Hilda said coldly. Face watched the colour drain from Opal's complexion.

"V-Vasilov?" she repeated in a frightened voice. "Please... he... Not after last time. Hilly, please!"

The pleas went unheard and one of the burly security men roughly escorted the frightened girl back up to her room. Face glared at Hilda, wanting so badly to grab his Glock and put a bullet right between those icy eyes, but the two men at his back were too close.

The woman then smiled at Face, and what she said next made his blood run cold.

"Mr McCain is waiting for you in his office."

oOo

Hannibal paced the floor of their Radisson suite. Face was late – not by much, but every second had Hannibal worrying a little more. All attempts at contacting him had failed. His cell went to voice mail, his comm. unit was dead...

After what the kid had told him, Hannibal didn't want Face anywhere near these people any longer than necessary. For his own obvious reasons and Face's sanity.

Murdock looked up from his laptop and frowned. "You gonna wear a hole in the rug, bossman," he murmured. Hannibal shot him a look. "Um, I found out where Slam is, in New York. I have the address. It doesn't open 'til late, so after Facey gets back, we should go visit Abdul's place first," he suggested. "Bosco putting' the info in his sat nav, boss."

But Face wasn't back yet. "Murdock, what time is it?" he asked tapping his own watch, he already knew was accurate.

"10.57, New York time," Murdock said pointing to the digital display on the laptop.

"He's late," Hannibal stated and stopped pacing. "That's it. Something's wrong." He grabbed his jacket and gun. "We're leavin'. Grab your stuff, kid."

BA frowned when Hannibal and Murdock jumped into the SUV, without Face. "Where's Faceman?"

"I dunno," Hannibal scowled, "But I'm gonna find out."

oOo

The doors to Kendall's were locked and secured when the team arrived. Hannibal frowned hard. Damn. He banged on the reinforced glass until a huge man with Neanderthal features narrowed his beady eyes at him.

"We're closed," he shouted, the voice barely carrying through the glass.

"I have an appointment," Hannibal shouted back, ignoring the irritated looks from people passing by. The ape just shrugged and turned away. Hannibal blew out a breath.

"Facey might not be in there," Murdock offered. "But he's gone in undercover, bossman, no reason for them to think he ain't who he says he is, if he is still in there. Right?"

BA and Hannibal exchanged glances as they climbed back into their car. In a perfect world, that might be true, but this was Face's world, and the kid had _proved_ that nothing was at it seemed. And if Face had been compromised, he wouldn't go back to the Radisson and endanger the rest of the team... he'd go somewhere else.

But that still didn't explain the lack of communication, and that seriously worried the colonel.

"BA, take us to Millie's," Hannibal suddenly said, praying they'd find Face there. "I wanna talk to the old man. He knows Face. Knew him back then, when..." He stopped, not wanting to say aloud those words... when Face was a prostitute.

Pulling out into the busy morning traffic, BA silently headed towards Millie's Motel. Hannibal chewed thoughtfully on an unlit cigar, frowning anxiously at the possibility of not finding Face waiting for them there, and at what other secrets from Face's past Mister Arnold might just tell him. That maybe Face was once an escort, working for The Club, Kendall's previous name, under the very same Jackson McCain.

And if Face was missing, the bastard might have recognised him...

"May I help you? Oh..." Mister Arnold frowned when Hannibal walked into his small lobby, BA and Murdock in tow. He looked around, but was disappointed not to see his Chris there, too.

Hannibal saw him look and his heart sank. Face wasn't there. "He's not with us, sir," he said shortly. The old man's eyes widened.

"Chris is not in trouble, is he?"

"I don't know," Hannibal sighed heavily and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Look, we need to know who Fa... Chris worked with when you knew him... back then."

Arnold looked down and nervously rubbed his hands. "I... I don't think Chris would want me talking about that," he murmured.

"It's important," Hannibal said seriously and the old man looked up sharply at the tone. "He's missing. He was undercover at Kendall's-"

"Kendall's?" Arnold exclaimed shocked. "No! He can't go back there!"

BA and Murdock instantly closed ranks, fear widening their eyes. Hannibal looked hard at the old man, "Why?" he asked afraid of knowing the answer already.

Arnold rubbed frail hands over his face, dislodging his thick glasses and looked at Hannibal with huge, scared eyes. "Because McCain's gonna kill him," he whispered and swallowed hard.

"Fuck, Hannibal," BA growled, mirroring the pure look of shock and fear in Murdock's face.

The old man jumped when BA smashed his fist into a wall in frustration, and realised that these three men were Chris' only chance if McCain did have him now. He thought hard, trying to get his stupid slow, old mind to remember... "When Chris disappeared, McCain came looking for him. Man doesn't like it when his contracts are broken," he started, talking rapidly as if the information would disappear again. "Said if he ever saw Chris again, he'd kill him." He looked up at Hannibal. "I've been in this business a long time, seen a lot of stuff, but I've never seen anyone more evil than Jackson McCain. I was glad when Chris got out..."

Hannibal nodded and was about to thank him and urgently leave when Arnold grabbed his hand. "I know kids go missing from Kendall's. I've heard rumours," he said quietly. "McCain owns a place in Connecticut."

"Can you be more specific?" Hannibal asked directly, eyes hard and desperate.

"I'm sorry, all I know is that it's near a lake. But the rumours are that if he takes you there, you're never seen again."

"Okay, sir, thank you," Hannibal rushed out and turned, needing to get to Face before McCain took him to Connecticut and disappeared.

"Find him," Mister Arnold called after them, "Before it's too late!"

oOo

The ringing voice of the old man was still echoing in Hannibal's head as they all ran back to the SUV. He immediately turned to BA, ordering the man to get back to Kendall's, before grabbing the laptop.

"He said it was near a lake," Murdock said as the colonel's finger's skittered across the keys.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured, frowning hard in concentration. This was normally Face's job, his area of expertise, and Hannibal was struggling. "Fuck!" he exclaimed when the third password he'd keyed in failed.

"Hold on, hang on, bossman," Murdock murmured and leaning over, typed in another combination of letter and numbers. The page opened. Hannibal blew out a breath, mumbled a quick thanks to the pilot, and started looking for property owned by Jackson McCain in Connecticut on the government website.

oOo

Face was shoved unceremoniously into McCain's office. He looked around, his eyes instantly falling on the man behind the desk, and quickly schooled his expression.

Fear gripped his insides, and he felt his lungs cease, but he couldn't let this bastard see that. The room looked different, but the oppressive feeling of dread was still there, and Face could clearly see himself in his memories, as the fifteen year old boy, being brutally raped over the same imposing piece of furniture dominating the room by the very man sat behind it.

He pushed those vivid images aside and focussed on the one thing in his life that gave him strength. And thinking of Hannibal enabled Face to prepare himself for the worst.

The only regret he had was not having one last chance to say goodbye.

One of the security men stepped forward and placed Face's Glock, comm. unit and cell phone on McCain's desk, and the man leaned forward with a small charming smile.

"Well, well, well," he said and stood up, circling his desk and leaning his butt up against the front. Face didn't moved, didn't even blink. "Chris Seven. I've missed you. Welcome home, lad."

A ripple of revulsion shook through Face, and McCain smirked at the small slip in the kid's carefully worked stoic stance.

"I must admit," McCain shrugged, dark eyes casually roaming up and down Face's body, "I didn't expect to see you again, Chris... or is it James, now? Doesn't matter. I thought you were smarter than this." He picked up the Glock and ran his fingers over the cold metal. Face followed the movement carefully. "But, saying that, I am pleased to see you again, lieutenant."

Face's eye's snapped up and he stared at McCain, unable to stop himself from pulling in a gasp and swallowing hard. McCain cocked the Glock and aimed it at Face's head.

"Yes, my dear Lieutenant Templeton Peck, I know exactly who you are," he said levelly, hand steady and unwaveringly holding that gun inches from the wide blue eyes. Seconds that felt like an eternity passed before McCain smiled and lowered the Glock, and Face silently let out the breath he'd been holding. The man narrowed his dark eyes at Face, "You owe me," he said lowly. "We had a contract, you and I, and you broke it. I warned you that when you signed, you belonged to me. I _own_ you. I think you need a reminder," he leered at Face and licked his lips, quickly nodding.

Face jumped when he felt two strong hands grip his biceps tightly, and immediately started struggling the second he realised what McCain was going to do... over the same desk. He felt sick to his stomach, cold dread filling his heart, and that fight or flight instinct kicked in powerfully.

Slamming his elbow into the solar plexus of one man and temporarily winding him, Face swung around and smashed his fist into the other's face, hearing bones crunch and feeling warm wetness slick his knuckles. With a swift upper cut, the first man went down with an indignant grunt, and Face grabbed hands full of curly black hair ready to drive his knee into the bloodied face of the other when he heard the ominous click of his Glock _very_ close to his ear. He stopped dead.

He'd forgotten about the man with his gun. Fuck.

"Impressive," McCain said fascinated. "You've grown into quite the action man, Chris."

Breathing harshly, Face felt the cold barrel press against his temple and slowly let go of the curly black hair. The man stood up and scowled at him, blood pouring from a hideously broken nose, and Face knew he was beaten.

"Nothing to say?" McCain smirked.

"Fuck you," Face spat.

The first blow wasn't a surprise, but it fucking hurt. The second cracked ribs, and the rest left Face half unconscious, bruised and bleeding in a heap on the floor.

It was then that the two men hauled his aching body face down onto McCain's desk, and Face closed his eyes, desperately attempting to block out the rape he knew he was about to endure.

"Mmmm, Chris, still beautiful," murmured McCain as he yanked off Face's leather pants exposing his bare ass, and forced his legs apart. Face cringed and tried his best the withdraw into himself, hide from the horror of what was happening to him. But his body was broken, useless, and he couldn't stop it.

Hands gripped his forearms hard and held him down as Face instinctively started to struggle. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and panic start to well inside him. He bit down hard on his lip as the room swam in and out of focus, and Face prayed for the darkness that teetered on the edge of his consciousness to overwhelm him, preferably before McCain took him, but it wasn't to be and his body screamed in agony as the man suddenly drove into him hard and brutally fast.

"Shit. You guys gotta try this!" McCain suddenly growled.

And with dread, Face's mind grasped the horrific reality that he wasn't just going to be raped, he was going to be violently gang banged, too.

Face, cruelly denied that desperately longed for oblivion, grunted and gasped through it all, deliberately holding back the cries and pain filled groans, not wanting to give McCain the satisfaction of hearing him suffer.

And when it was thankfully finally over, McCain leaned over and hissed vehemently into Face's ear, "_My_ little whore."

Then Face was hauled upright, held steady between the two men as his legs just didn't have the strength to hold him. He could feel wetness slide down his inner thighs, and it made Face nauseous, his aching stomach cramping and rolling. His mind blurred starting to shut down, shock now setting in and making his body shiver, and the deep set throb of his busted ribs, bruised and sore torso and the sting of his split lips, the two inch gash above his left eye and bloodied nose now all made themselves mercilessly known.

McCain moved uncomfortably close and reached down to yank up Face's pants, leaning in to whisper coldly in his ear, "I own your ass, pretty boy, just remember that," and wrapping a huge hand around the kids throat, squeezing hard. McCain watched with a grim smugness as Face struggled weakly, gasping for air through his bruised mouth, letting go when the kid suddenly went limp and his eyes rolled.

That blessed darkness consumed Face and he welcomed it, the last thoughts in his head of Hannibal, BA and Murdock, and how he was sorry he'd let them all down, and the overwhelming shame and guilt of what he'd just done.

Once a whore, always a whore.

McCain abruptly pulled up and fastened his own pants and sneered at the unconscious man dangling between his men. "Take him up to the helicopter. Ashford can have this one for free," he barked, then quickly deciding, "Bring that girl, Opal, too."

oOo

"Got it!" he announced just as BA pulled up by Kendall's. The property McCain owned was huge. At least twenty five acres, with a huge, secluded building by a lake. Security was bound to be tight. He gave BA the address before jumping out of the SUV just in time to see a helicopter take off from the roof.

"Fuck," Hannibal hissed, _knowing_ that Face was on that craft. Murdock frowned up at the sky, blue-green eyes watching the helicopter head north-east, mind whirling with dread... they were too late.

Hannibal caught movement in the lobby, and looked through the locked glass doors to see Hilda smirking at them, cold, evil expression on her face. She held up Face's comm. unit and flicked it on.

"_You win some, you lose some, colonel."_

Hannibal's heart stopped and his insides cramped painfully at the ice cold voice hissing in his ear. They had Face for definite, and they knew who he was.

And they were too late.

The steel shutter slowly fell in place. Kendall's was closed. Tight.

Within seconds, BA squealed off even before Murdock and Hannibal had even shut their doors, heading for Connecticut, and Face.

oOo

Ice cold water and a burning bright light snapped Face awake in an instant, and he yelped, his body quickly stiffening as it cruelly reminded him of his injuries.

"Motherfucker!"

Another blast of water.

"Jesus, fuck! Okay! Okay! Stop!" he spluttered, trying to move from the pain of the torturous spray, but finding he couldn't. The water stopped just as abruptly and Face slumped on the chair he was cuffed to and panted heavily, shivering uncontrollably.

His senses became alert fast, and Face listened carefully when he heard murmured voices not far from him, but frustratingly couldn't make out any words. He looked up, squinting against the bright spot lights trained right on him, and frowned. He couldn't see anything either.

Sighing softly, he looked down at himself. He was naked. Fuck. Naked and cuffed to a hard plastic chair by his wrists and ankles. A feeling of despair washed over him and he just stared at the bruises littering his skin, the dried blood encrusting his inner thighs. Was this his lot in life, now?

Of course it wasn't. He was a fucking Ranger, and Face determinedly stomped on that despair and looked up again.

"So, any chance of breakfast?" he asked snidely. The water wasn't a surprise, and Face laughed until it suddenly stopped and the lights shut off plunging the room into pitch blackness.

Oh, so that was the game they were going to play. Sensory torture. A game Face had unfortunately played before, and he swallowed hard.

oOo

McCain's property was surrounded by a fortified ten foot wall, barbed wire rolling along the top. Hannibal looked at it calmly, knowing it wouldn't keep them out, it was the dogs that he was worried about.

"I hate dogs," Murdock mumbled, wincing as the vicious bark of a number of the canines could be heard on the other side of the wall. "Now, fish. Fish are nice. No teeth, 'cept Piranha, and even they taste good when cooked with dash of lemon and Cajun seasonin'."

BA shook his head as he listened to the nonsensical mumbles of the pilot. Murdock did have a point though, those dogs did sound nasty. "Hannibal?"

Hannibal glanced down from the edge of the wall. "Dogs," he confirmed with a frown. "Lots of dogs." He climbed off the precariously balanced rocks and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "We need meat."

"Meat!" Murdock grinned, nodding, already getting the plan, simple but effective as it was. Dogs liked meat!

Rushing back to the SUV, the team drove to the nearest supermarket to stock up on raw meat.

oOo

The silence in the dark room was deafening, and Face had started singing to himself just to help his nerves.

"...sunshine, my only sunshine... You make me ha-ppy when times are grey..."

His soft singing though was suddenly interrupted by an extremely loud, high pitched noise. Ear drum shatteringly loud! And with the bright spot lights now flashing on an off too, after the dark silence, it was pure torture.

Face screwed his eyes shut trying to stop the pulsing brightness burn through his retina's, but he couldn't, and his head throbbed. And the noise... Christ! With his hands cuffed Face couldn't cover his ears and the high pitched wail engulfed him, making his already aching head pound mercilessly, and his heart speed up to aching proportions.

Face threw his head back and screamed for God knows how long.

And then it all stopped and the room was dark and deathly silent again, and Face sobbed soundlessly until his aching ribs burned.

The door opened a while later and a small light illuminated the room. Face squinted through red rimmed and puffy eyes to see two men and Jackson McCain walk in. He looked away again, not wanting to play anymore, suddenly hyper aware at his nakedness and shuddering out an apprehensive breath.

His cuffs were then removed and he was left sitting rubbing his sore and chaffed wrists. "What d'you... want?" he croaked, voice raw and hoarse.

McCain smiled. "He's a resilient one, isn't he Doctor Ashford?"

The man next to him nodded, and Face narrowed his eyes trying to focus on the face. The name sounded eerily familiar. "A fine specimen, yes," the doctor concurred.

Face sucked in a sharp breath when McCain stepped forward and thrust his cell phone under his nose. Face raised his eye brows, quickly frowning though when Opal was shoved into the room. She stared at him, eyes wide with fright, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed.

"Call Colonel Smith," ordered McCain. Face snorted. Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen.

A gun was placed at Opal's head.

"Call Colonel Smith, now, lieutenant!"

"W-why?" Face sneered, instantly recoiling when McCain leaned in close.

"Because I want you to tell him who you belong to, whore," he hissed darkly. "I want you to tell him that I fucked you and you enjoyed it." Face shook his head but McCain held it still with a bruising grip to his jaw. His hands flew to McCain's wrist, but his weakened strength was no match. The man's eyes flashed, "You tell him, or I put a bullet between pretty Opal's big brown eyes there," he threatened and Face looked at Opal. She was crying, scared to death and the smell of urine filled his nose as the girl wet herself with fear. McCain smirked, "Oh, I've done my homework on you and your beloved colonel, kid, and I _know_ who you all are. Tell me, how would your crazy friend cope being locked up in the loony bin again, hmmm? Call him or I dangle you out there as bait and call the military," he winked crassly, leaving the rest unsaid, and Face knew he had no choice. The girl's life was at stake, and he had to protect his team.

"Okay," he swallowed and took the cell with a trembling hand. McCain grinned and stroked his hand over the kid's hair. Face jerked away.

He shakily keyed in Hannibal's number and held the cell to his ear. Hannibal answered on the second ring. _"Face?"_

His voice, harsh with worry, anxiety and shock, still warmed Face through and he smiled.

"Colonel?"

"_Oh God, kid! You okay?"_ Face nodded, tears springing to his eyes as he heard Murdock's frantic chatter in the background and BA's "Shut up, fool, boss talkin' to him!" For a moment it was all so normal again. And then McCain snatched the phone away.

"Colonel Smith, I presume?" he asked in a jovial tone. Face could practically see Hannibal's face twist with rage in his mind's eye. "Wow, I'm honoured, colonel, to be talking to such a ...celebrity!"

"_Well, the feeling isn't mutual,"_ Hannibal hissed back and Face's eyes widened. McCain had flicked on the cell's speaker.

"That's a shame, colonel, a real shame," McCain grinned looking down at Face.

"_What do you want?"_ Face heard Hannibal ask, the hatred and anger transmitting through the tinny speaker loud and clear.

"Oh, just wanted to let you know your boy is with me, now," McCain told him running his hand over Face's hair again. Face glared at him and the man just smirked, adding in a low callous voice, "And I fucked him again, and he loved it. Damn, colonel, did you ever have that tight ass of his? Fuck."

Face's lungs seized in his chest when there was nothing but silence from Hannibal.

"Colonel?"

"_I will find you, and I will kill you,"_ Hannibal's flat, deadly voice promised, and Face saw a second of fear cross McCain's face before he blinked it away.

"Oh, wait, your boy wants to talk to you," he said and held the cell out to Face. He just looked at it. "Take it," McCain grated.

"Hannibal," Face swallowed hesitantly, his heart cracking little by little with every second that went by and the colonel didn't answer.

"Tell him," ordered McCain. "Tell how you _loved_ being fucked, lieutenant, how much you loved it!"

Closing his eyes, Face felt a lump form in his throat. His head snapped to the side and his mouth filled with blood when McCain back handed him, yelling, "Tell him!"

"I... loved b-being fucked," Face said softly, tears falling. He heard McCain laugh and Opal yelp. The bastard had cocked the gun and was forcing her to her knees, barrel bruising her forehead.

"_Face?"_ Hannibal's voice, now so full of hurt, tore Face apart.

"You loved me fucking you, and you're mine, whore," McCain prompted again.

"I loved him f-fucking me and ...I'm his whore," Face repeated knowing he'd just effectively ruined whatever life he and Hannibal could ever have salvaged after this.

"Again, whore, you want me, want me all the damned time," McCain rushed, licking his lips and sneering maniacally, clearly getting off on the perverse power he had over Face.

"I..." Face stalled, the words sticking painfully in his throat. McCain growled and Face closed his eyes in defeat. "I w-want him. I'm his whore, John," he finished and felt something break deep inside him.

And knew it could never be mended again.

oOo

"Boss?" Murdock's eyes were wide and shocked to see the tears slipping down Hannibal's cheeks. He ignored the pilot.

"_I w-want him. I'm his whore, John."_

Hannibal closed his eyes and lowered the cell, his internal emotions screaming. His boy had been raped by that monster.

BA threw him a concerned glance and blew out a shaky breath. "Hannibal, man, what...?"

Murdock took the cell from the colonel's lax hand. "Facey?" he urgently called into the small device, gasping in relief when the kid answered.

"_James, tell John I'm sorry,"_ Face pleaded. _"I'm so sorry."_

The tears welled up in Murdock's eyes before he could stop them and he swallowed hard. "Facey, where are you?"

oOo

"And that's where we say goodbye," McCain interjected when he heard the rushed question, snatching the cell and clicking it off. Face stared at him, eyes full of hatred.

"Let her go," he said low and toneless when Opal whimpered again. McCain raised his brows and cocked his head.

Doctor Ashford watched curiously as Face narrowed his eyes dangerously. So much hate in this particular subject, he would be fascinating to break, which would be a welcomed variance after the last one. The doctor missed working with soldiers. Young Charlie was too easy. He moved to stand safely next to the other man, just in case the lieutenant snapped, and nudged him. "It'll be interesting to have a soldier to work with this time, don't you think, Nadir?"

Nadir Abdul grinned enjoying the show. "I'm looking forward to see how far we can push this one, yes, doctor," he agreed quietly.

"I said let her go," Face repeated, but McCain just snarled at him, aimed the gun and fired, the bullet knocking Opal off her knees and onto the floor. Dead.

"NO!"

Within a second the man had his hand tight around Face's neck, and the barrel of the gun painfully wedged behind his ear. "Don't ever think you can tell me what to do, whore," he spat furiously and lifted the weapon, bringing it down sharply, rendering Face instantly unconscious.

Ashford frowned. "McCain, you didn't need to kill the girl," he chided disapprovingly. McCain shrugged.

"I'll bring you a new one tomorrow," he smiled and Ashford agreed with a nonchalant smile of his own.

oOo

"What happened, man?" BA asked when he pulled up outside the supermarket, needing to know about his little brother.

Hannibal turned sad, desolate eyes to him. "Bastard raped Face."

"Motherfucker," BA hissed through his teeth, slamming open the door and stomping towards the shopping carts. Hannibal closed his eyes and rubbed his face, feeling like his heart was tearing apart.

"He told me to tell you he's sorry, boss, but..." Murdock said very softly, breaking the intense silence in the car, clearly struggling and very close to breaking point. Hannibal screwed up his face and growled. Fuck!

Face had nothing, _nothing_ to be sorry for! He was raped, for fucks sake. Jesus Christ, it was all so fucked up!

"C'mon, we don't have time for this, kid," he said gruffly and jumped out of the SUV. "Let's go get Face back." Murdock wasted no time and quickly scampered after him.

They sprinted around the store fast. Hannibal knew Face had no time left, and he needed to get the kid out of there.

Less than twenty-five minutes later, they were speeding back towards McCain's place.

"Wow, bossman, we got enough here for a cookout to end all cookouts," Murdock said as he eyed the numerous bags of raw meat. Hannibal just prayed they had enough. They'd also quickly stopped by a veterinary surgery and scammed an amount of liquid sedative, as an extra precaution.

BA pulled the SUV right up against the wall this time, around the back of the property where security was virtually none existent, made up for by the dogs. They climbed on the roof and cut away the barbed wire. Hannibal pulled out his binoculars.

"Okay, I count at least a dozen dogs that I can see," he said quietly. "The building looks like a warehouse and is a good half mile away from the perimeter, so we'll have to be fast before the security is alerted. Murdock, soak the meat with the stuff."

"Right," the pilot nodded and liberally poured the sedative over all the meat with a grimace. "Ew, stuff stinks."

"Yeah, but you ain't no dog, fool," BA grunted and helped him lift the bags up the Hannibal. Murdock grinned and barked.

oOo

Face jerked awake abruptly to find himself sprawled on the floor. He gingerly sat up in the pitch black and blindly felt around. His fingers found the chair. Okay, so he was still in the room, but now un-cuffed. He frowned, when had that happened? Then he remembered Opal and the tears started falling again. His arms wrapped around his bare body and he rubbed his skin. He was freezing cold.

Right. Of course.

The temperature dropped dramatically until Face's teeth were chattering and his extremities were going numb. He leaned over, trying to curl into a ball to conserve as much heat as he could, but his body shook and he could feel himself drifting. And Face knew if he fell asleep, with hypothermia setting in, he could die.

And for a moment he wondered if that might not be a bad thing.

oOo

A dozen dogs quickly turning into double that amount, and the team hurriedly threw out the chunks of dosed meat, watching wide eyed as the ravenous canines tore into the flesh.

"Oh God, that's nasty," Murdock shivered and deliberately started thinking about fish again.

It took them a while, dodging CCTV camera's and the odd patrolling guard, but soon Hannibal, BA and Murdock, equipped with weapons and C4, were hiding next to the large, imposing warehouse, guns at the ready, waiting for their chance.

"Basement's best bet," Hannibal murmured taking a best guess at where in the building Face was probably being held. The basement was usually the securest. BA and Murdock agreed, and they made their way around to the nearest basement entry – a small, barred window close to the ground. BA stepped forward and with his brute strength, loosened the bars until they snapped off.

Murdock slid inside first, being the smallest of the three, and quickly secured the small store room before Hannibal climbed through, and lastly BA. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the big guy made it.

"Man, you need t'go on a diet, Bosco," Murdock grinned. BA growled at him.

They were all in. Now, they had to locate Face, and Charlie if he was there... and then get out.

oOo

Just as Face slipped into the endless dark oblivion, the awful high pitched noise started up again, along with the flashing lights, and Face rolled over slamming his cold, numb hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut.

He screamed, his throat dry and raw, and scrambled across the freezing cold floor to a corner, _any_ corner of the room, trying in vain to escape.

But as soon as he did, white hot shards of agony shot up his arms and thighs, and in the flashes of light he saw the sickly redness of blood pouring from his palms, knees and shins, pooling around the broken glass that littered the edges off the room.

He moved away slowly, sobbing and crying, pain lancing through his body with every inch he slid across the floor, with every flash of bright white light, and the loud, ear splitting wail that filled the room.

Face curled into himself in the centre, shaking, wanting it to end, to just fucking... end.

oOo

"Hannibal, in here," BA whispered from an empty office. The look in the big guy's eyes was one of horror. "Man, this place is a fuckin' laboratory!"

All the colour drained from Murdock's face. "A l-laboratory?" he repeated quietly. "Researching what?"

Hannibal grabbed the files from BA and leafed through them, each page making his heart thump harder. It was a fucking laboratory studying the effects of torture on human beings.

And it all fell into place.

Hannibal read from the files, "Looks like McCain's escort agency supplies the subjects, and a Doctor Alan Ashford," whose name sounded vaguely familiar to Hannibal, "Carries out the research, here." Which Hannibal thought, was typical of a man with his head right up his own, supercilious ass.

Nadir Abdul's involvement appeared vague until Murdock found a list of names, headed 'potential subjects', signed by Nadir himself. He was vetting them.

Jackson McCain was apparently being paid millions for his part in it all.

It wasn't a human trafficking operation McCain was running, it was an illegal human research ring.

And they had Face.

"Hannibal, there's a file on Charles Briggs here," BA said darkly. Murdock looked at him from the doorway.

"Does it say he's here, big guy?" he asked, fearing the worst. BA nodded gravely.

"Yeah, but 'ccording to this las' report, the kid's scheduled for..." he paused and looked up in horror. "He's scheduled for termination tomorrow."

What the hell kind of place was this? Murdock looked at Hannibal, panic clear in his eyes.

They had to shut this hell hole down.

After a last quick search of the office, they realised Ashford had at least two other kids in the building alongside Charles, and Hannibal knew he'd have to get them all out, and then blow the place to hell.

"Murdock, C4," he grunted, and the pilot fished out a charge and tossed it to the colonel, who then set the timer for forty minutes and hid it behind a filing cabinet. They then left the office, after stuffing files linking the research to Kendall's in BA's backpack, to find Face, and the kids.

oOo

Face didn't know how much more he could take. When he'd endured this torture before, his captives actually wanted something, but so far McCain and the others hadn't really asked for anything. He didn't understand.

The piercing wail set his teeth on edge and his head felt like it was going to explode, but he'd stopped himself screaming and tried to steady his breathing, focusing his concentration on the internal throb of his cracked ribs to better deal with his situation, and it was working.

Until the noise stopped dead. Again. And Face hung on to his head as the sudden silence imploded his senses, sticky, bloody fingers gripping through his hair, holding on tightly.

But this time the lights stayed on, glaring brighter and brighter.

And the room became unbearably hotter.

oOo

The first of the kid's they were looking for was unfortunately already dead. A young girl, only seventeen, simply known as Anna. Hannibal scowled hard at the sight of the slight body, bruised and emaciated, lying on a thin bed, wrists clawed open by her own nails.

"Oh my God," breathed Murdock when he saw her, and BA instantly blocked the pilot's view with his bulk.

"Nothin' we can do here," Hannibal said grimly, indignant set to his mouth. BA moved Murdock aside and the colonel closed the door.

The next occupied room was Charles'. And he was alive.

"Jesus," Murdock breathed when he saw the kid, almost black and blue with bruises, curled up in the corner by a toilet, staring blankly at nothing. Hannibal approached him slowly and knelt down.

"Charles?" he murmured softly. The kid didn't answer. Hannibal gently touched his fingers to the kid's knee and tried again.

This time green eyes snapped up and Charles jerked away, a pathetic sob escaping him.

"Hey, kid, it's okay," Hannibal soothed gently. "I'm not gonna hurt you. We're here to take you home, son."

Those frightened green eyes blinked up at Hannibal. "H-home?" the boy croaked wretchedly, his thin, cold, bony fingers tentatively reaching out for Hannibal. The colonel quickly moved in and wrapped his arms around the trembling frame, and pulled the kid to him, holding tight. He felt frail in his arms, but at least he was alive.

"BA, find something for the kid to wear," Hannibal said softly, concerned at how cold Charles felt. But, finding nothing, BA stripped off his own jacket and helped Hannibal pull it on the kid. Charles immediately gripped the material tight, his eyes wide and grateful.

"Can you walk, kid?" asked Hannibal gently, smiling when Charles pulled in a determined breath and nodded. The colonel helped him up, and they left the room.

The corridor was empty, quiet, and they all hurriedly headed towards the last room they could see at the end. Charles stopped, fear in his eyes.

"You okay?" Murdock murmured.

"Claire," Charles whispered and motioned towards the room, suddenly scared to death at what they would find in there.

BA nodded to Murdock to stay with the kid, and he and Hannibal opened the door. They came out a moment later, matching grim frowns creasing their foreheads. Charles' eyes filled and the tears slipped silently down his cheeks for his friend.

She was in a better place now.

"Charles, we're looking for a friend," Hannibal said a moment later. "Where would they take him, other than these rooms?"

"The lab," Charles answered and bit his lip hard, trying desperately to keep it together.

"Where's the lab?" the colonel added and rubbed the kid's arm, checking the time ticking down on his watch. "You're doin' great, kid, c'mon. Where's the lab?"

"Floor below," Charles rushed out, his already pale skin turning almost white. "I... I know the way."

oOo

Sweat poured off Face's naked body as the heat slowly leeched out every ounce of energy the kid had left. He lay face down on the floor under the bright lights panting, trying to breathe the hot, dry air, struggling as each breath burned his lungs and throat.

His body throbbed dully, in time with his pounding head, and Face idly wondered if this was how a turkey felt at Thanksgiving.

A small, hoarse chuckle escaped him as Murdock's smiling face grinned in his mind, telling him he was crazy.

In the room next to the lab, watching through the one way mirror, Doctor Ashford, Nadir Abdul and McCain watched in fascination when they saw Face's body shake with laughter.

"This is a formidable specimen," Ashford mused to McCain. "You should get me more like this. My research needs these diverse subjects. I'll pay you double."

"I'll see what I can do," McCain smiled, greed brightening his eyes. Nadir walked over with a clip board and regarded the man in the bright room.

"He's had long enough, gentlemen," he nodded ticking off the chart. "Doctor, if you would be so kind as to cut the lights and heat, and introduce the ice water again, please?"

"It'll be a pleasure," Ashford nodded and moved his hand to a control panel.

"Interesting," Nadir said, drawing out the word when he pulled his night-vision glasses on and watched as Face's body instantly curled into a tight ball. "He still has muscle control. That is interesting."

"Very true. None of our subjects lasted this long and stayed conscious," Ashford noted curiously. "Perhaps this one will be a suitable candidate for the transorbital lobotomy research. Such strong-minded subjects are so rare."

"Hmmm, very rare, indeed. Shall I prep the surgery for tomorrow, Doctor?" Nadir asked, and Ashford tapped his finger against his lips in thought.

"No, tonight. And I want this one awake during the procedure," he said. "Let's just see how tough our soldier is."

And while Ashford and Nadir discussed Face's fate, McCain just watched on impassively.

oOo

The breath was stolen from Face's lungs when the icy cold water hit him, like a thousand razor blades slicing into his skin. He instinctively curled up, forcing his numb and listless body to cooperate. The pain exploded in his skull and he sobbed into his thighs, arms covering his head.

And then the noise started again.

And Face gave in and screamed.

oOo

"Down there," Charles murmured softly. He pointed to a door, stone stairs behind it. "I... I can't..."

Hannibal nodded seeing the intense fear in the green eyes, and gently led the boy to a room. He checked it out first before letting Charles in. "Stay here, you'll be safe, kid," he said, promising, "We'll be back in ten minutes. Stay quiet."

"Okay," the boy nodded, just grateful he didn't have to go down to the lab again.

The team quietly edged their way down the stone stairwell, placing a block of C4 near the bottom. Hannibal checked his watch... they had twenty four minutes until boom time.

Murdock made light work of the single security guard, rendering the man unconscious quickly and quietly before cuffing him to the staircase with his own cuffs. The lack of security amused Hannibal, but he wasn't going to complain. Arrogance was normally the downfall of many-a sick minded criminal.

There was only one door in the small corridor on the lower level, and the team quickly headed towards it.

Murdock planted another block of C4 behind the grill of a small air vent before they readied themselves to charge the door.

The three men jumped wildly when the big grey door smashed open, and found themselves staring down the barrels of three very determined guns.

McCain reacted instinctively and went for his own weapon, and BA fired, the bullet slicing through his upper arm.

"Anyone else feelin' stupid?" Murdock growled and the two men quickly shook their heads. McCain glared at Hannibal, blood running over his fingers tightly grasping his bicep.

"Colonel Smith, I presume," he sneered. Hannibal levelled cold, hard eyes on McCain and aimed his gun.

"I told you I'd find you," he said lowly, "And I'd kill you."

"Yeah, you did," McCain agreed, then smirked, "I still fucked your b-"

Hannibal pulled the trigger and McCain's head snapped back, a hole neatly between his eyes. Ashford and Nadir stared wide eyed at the dead man lying in an expanding puddle of blood.

Not giving the dead man another glance, Hannibal's eyes fell on the huge window to the darkened room, and then to the control display labelled 'Illumination', 'Temperature', 'Water', 'Audio', and felt a bubble of anger burst inside him. Sensory torture.

"Is he in there?" he growled, teeth gritted together. Nadir nodded and Hannibal drew back his fist and slammed it into the man's face. He turned to Ashford, narrowed his eyes. "Turn on the lights," he ordered and ran to the door of the lab.

The noise deafened them when the door opened and BA aimed his gun at the panel and fired until sparks flew and the piercing, high pitched wail stopped.

Ashford cowered in the corner.

Hannibal quickly ran to the naked, wet figure lying in the middle. The place was freezing, water still dripping down the thick, sound proofed walls, running along the floor, washing away remnants of blood.

"Face?" he gasped out as he turned Face carefully onto his back. The kid was beaten and bruised, and although his eyes were open, they were lifeless. A bolt of fear stopped Hannibal's heart. Was he too late? "Tem!"

A tiny frown twitched on Face's forehead, and Hannibal blew out a huge shaky breath. "Fuck, kid," he swallowed hard, heart now pounding hard in his chest. He truly thought he'd lost him. He pressed his fingers to Face's bruised throat, closing his eyes with palpable relief when he felt the fluttering of a pulse under the pads. Rapid and a little erratic, but it was there.

"Boss... Facey?" Murdock asked from the doorway, visibly afraid of the answer. Hannibal looked up and nodded, and the pilot sagged in relief too, before he and BA rushed into the lab.

Placing his palm against his boy's face, Hannibal gently urged him awake. They had very little time left. They had to leave before the place blew up. He checked his watch – twelve minutes left.

"Murdock, go get some pants for him," Hannibal said stripping off his own shirt for Face. The pilot quickly disappeared, returning seconds later.

"Ashford kindly offered his," he said and helped BA pull them up Face's bloodied legs, resolutely ignoring the telltale bruising and dried smears of blood from the rape for the moment. The pants were short, but no one cared.

"Face, c'mon," Hannibal tried again. "We gotta go, kid."

Still no response, and Hannibal was worried that the kid felt way too hot, too. BA handed his pack to Murdock and slipped his arms under the lieutenant's body, grunting as he lifted him.

"C'mon, man, we ain't got time," he said and headed for the door, Face secure in his arms. "Plant the C4, fool!"

Murdock planted more explosive and left it in full view of Ashford, who was half naked, tied up and gagged. Hannibal looked at the doctor and blinked, his face suddenly appearing in his mind, in another place, another time. He walked over.

"I know you," he said, brow creased. His lips curled into a horrified grimace. "You did those chemical experiments on the soldiers in Afghanistan. _American_ soldiers." Hannibal heard Murdock gasp behind him and narrowed his eyes in disgust when Ashford looked up at him and smiled behind his gag. "You disgust me."

And with that, he pushed Murdock out of the door and followed BA and Face quickly to the stairwell. The guard was awake and stared wide eyed when Murdock pointed out the C4 and the timer counting down fast. Halfway up the stairs, the pilot tossed the handcuff key to the man.

"Better be quick," he advised, and the guard scrambled to get free.

oOo

"Charles? Charlie?" Hannibal called as he opened the door to the room he'd hidden the kid. Charles appeared from behind a cabinet and hurried over when Hannibal motioned to him urgently. His eyes fell of BA and the body he was carrying.

"Is... is he..."

"He's gonna be fine, kid," Hannibal smiled tightly and grabbed Charles' arm. "C'mon, we gotta go. Murdock, we're takin' the chopper outta here. Take point."

"Ten-four, mon colonel!" the pilot nodded and moved in front, vigilantly checking the way clear for the rest.

As soon as they reached the main door out of the building, though, they were met with a hail of gunfire.

"Jesus Christ," Murdock winced ducking when a volley of bullets hit the masonry, spraying chunks of brick and dust over him. "Fuck, so close, yet so far away!"

"Shut up, fool!" BA grunted leaning over to protect Face as best he could.

"I'm jus' sayin'," the pilot shrugged, aiming his gun blindly around the wall they were hidden behind and firing. Hannibal, with Charles tucked close to him, fired too.

But the bullets still flew thick and fast.

"Fuck, we don't have time for this," Hannibal growled frustrated checking his watch. Less than four minutes...

And then the security guard from the stairwell appeared, sweating and frantic, and burst into the open screaming that the place was rigged to blow.

That was exactly what they needed, and the team ran hell for leather towards the heli-pad just as the men with the guns very quickly scattered. Murdock dived into the pilot seat of the chopper and rapidly flicked switches, as BA and Hannibal loaded their charges into the back, securing them safely and before quickly climbing in themselves, Hannibal taking the co-pilot seat.

"Two minutes, kid," Hannibal hissed through gritted teeth, his heart speeding up. So close... They were cutting it too close...

With the rotors at full capacity, Murdock lifted the helicopter smoothly off the pad, tilted it and flew it away just as the building exploded.

The craft rocked violently, and alarms instantly sounded as the blast wave from the multiple C4 charges hit them full force.

"Shit, hang on, hold on," Murdock shouted trying to steady the craft, hands flying about the cockpit twisting dials, pressing buttons, murmuring to himself, "c'mon baby, c'mon girl, hold it together sweetie..."

BA hung on white knuckled as the helicopter lurched this way and that, his dark features frozen in fear, praying that they'd live, they wouldn't crash... because he was gonna _kill_ Murdock for this...

Charles had his eyes screwed tightly shut, sobbing loudly with each jarring shake.

Face was oblivious to it all, unconscious now, Hannibal realised when he saw the kid's eyes closed. Small mercies. With Face's injuries, the ride would have been agony if he was awake.

"Murdock," Hannibal cried into the comm., needing sit rep urgently.

"She ain't doin' well, bossman," Murdock stated the obvious, adding a quick "Whoa easy, girl" when a master alarm sounded, and a loud bang made them all jump. Murdock quickly leaned around and peered out of the window seeing smoke and falling debris. "Oops, lost the tail rudder. We're ah... we goin' down, boyo!"

"What?" BA's frantic panicked voice shouted from the rear.

"Hold on to your panties, guys, looks like this lil' darlin' wants down," Murdock informed them over the comm. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride. Kinda like Disney Land, eh Bosco?"

"Shut up, fool! You crazy! You crashin'!"

"No I ain't, she's doin' that all by herself!" the pilot countered, and BA just whimpered.

"Sergeant, make sure Face is secured," Hannibal ordered, watching the big guy fasten the belts of the bench seat tighter around the kid's body. Charles helped. "Okay, assume crash positions and... pray," he finished.

Another shrill alarm filled the cab. "Aw baby, you couldn't wait 'til our first date?" Murdock moaned as the ominous sound of rotors slowing down told the men they'd run out of time.

"Murdock?"

Smiling tightly at Hannibal, Murdock shrugged. "Any place in particular you'd like me to land this bird?" he asked brightly, although Hannibal could clearly see the strain and effort it was taking to hold the craft steady.

"Anywhere's good, kid," he nodded, placing all his trust in the pilot to get them down safely, and alive, but knowing that the odds were stacked against them.

Murdock fought against those odds and the sluggishly responding helicopter, keeping her steady until the ground suddenly came up and met them with an almighty, bone rattling thud. The craft tilted forward, the metal of the rotors twisting out of shape as they gouged troughs in the mud and dirt, sods of grass flying up high into the air, until they snapped off and the whole helicopter carried on the momentum and rolled onto its nose. The screen cracked, the loud sharp noise adding to the screams and shouts, and both Hannibal and Murdock quickly covered their faces from the shattering glass.

Seconds later, silence replaced the frantic shouts and screams as the craft eventually died a dramatic death. Smoke filled the air from the burned out motor, sparks flew from the destroyed controls, and Hannibal grinned widely.

Only Murdock could crash with flare without killing them!

"Hey, you okay?" he asked the pilot. Murdock smiled at him, nodding. He had blood running from his nose, but otherwise he appeared blessedly unharmed. "Helluva job, kid!"

"Thanks, boss," he murmured peeling off his headgear and dazedly looking around. Poor girl, he though sadly.

"BA?" Hannibal called as he unhooked his belt and climbed through the upturned wreckage of the craft. He heard a disgruntled grunt and saw the big guy still belted in his seat, upside down. Charles was okay, if a little shocked.

"Hannibal!" BA suddenly shouted. "Tha' fool crashed the chopper!"

Taking BA's outburst as a sign he was alright, Hannibal's eyes quickly focussed on Face, widening when he saw the blood dribbling steadily from the man's mouth. Face, also still tightly secured across the bench seat, was upside down, too. And still unconscious.

"Shit. Face!" Hannibal called. "BA, I need help here!"

Murdock scrambled out of the chopper and pried open the mangled door, letting Charles out, before climbing back in to help BA and Hannibal gently lift Face from the back of the cab.

"Steady," Hannibal murmured as they unhooked the belts. "Easy. Easy, that's it..."

Between them, they slowly and carefully carried him outside and laid him on the grass. Hannibal wiped away the blood from his mouth.

"Face?" he murmured as he gently stripped off the kid's shirt and started to properly check him for injuries. "Hey, kid, c'mon. Time to wake up."

He felt the give of cracked ribs and grimaced. "Fuck, need to wrap these," he said. "Is there a first aid kit on the chopper?"

Charles sat quietly as he watched the three men fuss over the fourth. The pilot quickly returned with the kit and immediately started unpacking bandages. The big black man held the unconscious man's head, his fingers pressing against his neck.

"Charles, c'mere kid," Hannibal suddenly said and Charles blinked, but he moved quickly. "Hold this."

Hannibal gently pulled Face upright, and Murdock and Charles carefully wrapped a thick bandage around his chest.

"Thanks, kid," Hannibal smiled and Charles nodded.

"W-what's his name?" he asked. Murdock looked up from wiping antiseptic wipes over the deep gashes on Face's palms.

"Facey."

"Facey?" Charles repeated unsure that he'd heard the name right.

"Yep. Facey. An' I'm Murdock, he's BA an' that's Hannibal," Murdock smiled. Charles nodded, still a little shocked and dazed from the day's excitement.

"Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves earlier, kid," Hannibal murmured, busy cleaning and bandaging Face's legs. The short pants were now a stylish pair of short shorts.

"S'okay," Charles shook his head. "Th-thank you for getting me out of there."

"Hannibal, man, this needs stitchin'," BA interrupted softly looking up from where he was tending the lieutenant's face. Hannibal frowned at the two inch gash, re-opened and starting to haemorrhage again. If it wasn't stitched it would scar badly.

"Yeah, okay," he nodded and rummaged through the first aid bag praying it had a suture kit. He swapped places with BA and steadily stitched the skin together. Charles watched wide eyed.

"Hey, you injured anywhere, Charlie?" Murdock asked. The kid shook his head. He hurt, was one big walking bruise, and his psyche was a little damaged, but he'd live. Murdock smiled carefully, "You wanna talk about it?"

"No." The word shot out of Charles' mouth and he blinked in surprise. "Um, I mean no thank you."

"That's okay, but if you ever need to, you know, talk..." Murdock offered.

The hollow look in the green eyes subsided for a second at the kind offer, and Murdock wondered for the millionth time how the hell people could treat people like that. He draped his arm around the kid's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't worry, we'll have you home soon."

And that hollow look of fear was back instantly. Murdock frowned, but filed it away, deciding to tackle what he suspected might be going on in the Briggs' home later.

"Hey man. Shouldn't Face be wakin' up by now?" BA asked. Hannibal looked down at the kid, flushed due to a slight fever, and sighed. After what he'd been through – the rape, the torture, it was no surprise he'd retreated into himself somewhere.

He remembered the last time Face had gone through the sensory torture, way before they'd met BA and Murdock. Back when it was just him and Face. And remembered just how long it had taken for the young Ranger to come around afterwards.

God, Hannibal had prayed ever since that he'd never have to go through anything like that again.

Face had been unresponsive for hours. Locked in some kind of internal struggle, and had just retreated so far into himself, it had taken some serious work on Hannibal's part just to bring him back.

There were times that Hannibal had thought he'd lost him, right there in that cold, dank Iraqi holding cell, that Face had gone, and all that was left was an empty shell, but the kid was tough, and he'd pulled himself back, still relatively sane.

Could he do it again?

For a moment the shrubs surrounding them morphed into damp, dirty cell walls, and Hannibal was back there again, trying desperately to get through to his young lieutenant...

"_Come on, kid, come back to me," he murmured stroking the limp curls from the sweaty forehead. Dulled blue eyes stared at nothing, the occasional shudder wracking his slim frame. "Face..."_

_Still nothing but the shallow, rapid rise and fall of Face's chest telling Hannibal that he was still alive._

_He'd heard the screams echoing down the corridor, heard the god-awful noise that nearly shook the walls to dust, and clearly heard the angry shouts and Arabic curses when Face still refused to give in to their demands._

_But at what cost?_

_Eventually, Face had clawed his way back to reality, and they'd escaped. For months afterwards, though, his Ranger was plagued with nightmares, terrors that haunted him, taunted him in his dreams, leaving him thoroughly shaken and terrified, screaming out for Hannibal..._

"_Hannibal! Hannibal..."_

"Hannibal?"

BA's urgent calling broke him out of his flashback and he looked down. Face was starting to struggle back towards consciousness.

"Hey, Face, c'mon," the colonel leaned close and murmured, watching the kid's eyes move rapidly behind bruised lids. His breathing speeded up and he gasped and arched his body as the full force of pain hit him from his many injuries. A soft whimper escaped his cracked and split lips and tears leaked from tightly shut eyes.

"J...Jo'..." he tried, his voice rough and raw. "Nnnn...nno..."

"Face, open your eyes, you're safe, son," Hannibal urged, hand gently cupping the kid's cheek. Face calmed a little and eventually squinted up at Hannibal. "Hey," the colonel smiled, utterly relieved to see those beautiful baby-blues again.

Murdock threaded his fingers through the caramel curls and smiled softly. "Facey, welcome back, buddy. Thought we'd lost you then," he sniffed, tears wetting his lashes.

"W...where...?" Face croaked, eyes darting sluggishly around until they fell on BA. He smiled. BA gently squeezed a bandaged hand.

Christ, he hurt. But Face was glad he was apparently out of that fuck-awful place and with his friends again. Although, that overwhelming feeling of shame and guilt still consumed him, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Hannibal for fear of the disappointment he'd see in the man's eyes.

He was a coward... and a whore.

Betrayal, disappointment, regret, resentment... Face deserved it all. What he'd done was unforgivable. He'd hurt the one person he loved and respected more than anything in the world, more than life itself, and Hannibal deserved better than that... than him.

Making fists, Face dug his fingers into the damaged tissue of his palms, welcoming the searing pain, and started to carefully build those mental walls around him, sealing in what was left of his dignity and courage. Because when they got back to LA, Face would have nothing else left.

oOo

Murdock took Charles to find some kind of transport, and came back with an old farm truck and a huge accomplished smile. Charles now had a little colour in his cheeks and a renewed energy befitting a young sixteen year old.

"Hey kids, you did good!" Hannibal praised the boy and the pilot.

"Facey ain't the only one with scammin' talent!" Murdock preened and winked. Charles laughed.

"He hot-wired it from a farm down the road," he disclosed and the pilot looked suitably crushed.

"Hey, that don't mean I didn't scam it, kid," he grinned. He pulled off his cap and yanked it on the boy's head with a wink.

BA shook his head and chuckled as he checked out the truck's engine, pursing his lips at the dilapidated state of it.

"Fuck, man, s'amazin' this piece o' shit still runnin'," he declared and pulled out a clump of straw from under the carburettor.

Face watched the camaraderie from where he was propped up by a piece of seat from the chopper wreck. He smiled at the easiness of friends' banter and wished he could turn back time, to before this mission, and have that all back again, too.

Even though they'd said that knowing what Face had done in his life as a kid didn't matter to them, wouldn't change anything... how could it not?

He could already feel the distance forming between them. When Murdock and the kid had gone, neither BA nor Hannibal came near him, choosing to loot the helicopter for anything useful instead.

Face felt so alone and miserable.

Oh, he knew the low grade fever he had wasn't helping his mood any, but still...

Closing his eyes, Face sighed softly.

oOo

Hannibal glanced over at Face and frowned. The kid's fever was stubbornly hanging on, and he could see the tight lines of pain around his eyes and mouth. Hannibal felt useless.

He'd let Face down. He knew he had. And Hannibal could already start to feel the kid pulling away from him little by little...

This mission had been a rough one, but Face... Hannibal swallowed hard when he thought about what this mission had done to his boy.

A lot had been revealed, secrets exposed, and things had inevitably changed.

Thinking about Face's childhood made Hannibal want to cry for him. It broke his heart that the kid had suffered so much at such a tender age. Life was cruel.

But although he didn't blame Face for his choices, like he'd said, he couldn't help the small part of him that felt let down by the kid. Finding out like he did made him feel confused and hurt, and he'd lashed out irrationally, making everything worse.

Hannibal loved Face very much, which made it harder for him to rationalise his behaviour.

He was also livid with anger. Face had been raped by that monster, McCain. That man had touched his boy and taken what didn't belong to him... and then made Face say those... things. Those awful things!

Death was far too kind for that motherfucker.

All that and the torture... God. What a fucking mess.

Turning back to see Murdock teasing Charles, making him laugh, Hannibal wondered if, after the mission was done and they were back home in LA, he and Face could salvage what was left of their fragile friendship.

Because Hannibal knew that if he lost Face, he'd have nothing left.

oOo

Face startled when he felt the cool edge of a water bottle nudge his lips. He opened his eyes to see Hannibal kneeling beside him.

"Here, kid," the colonel murmured and tipped the bottle slightly, letting the tepid water dribble into his mouth. Face swallowed slowly, his eyes fixed on Hannibal's.

Hannibal, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, looked away, and Face felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"John," he whispered brokenly, trying so hard to hold himself together.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Hannibal murmured, eyes still on the ground. "I'm so sorry I let you down."

Face blinked. What? But...

"This mission. I..." Hannibal looked up. "You know I care a lot about you, kid, don't you?"

Face nodded feeling the cold dread of rejection deep inside. It had started already. Hannibal wasn't even going to wait until LA.

Cool palms cupped his warm cheeks and Face shuddered desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. Hannibal wanted to explain, _needed_ to tell the boy, reassure him that despite everything he still loved him. Tell him again that he didn't care about Face's past, and that he was so, so fucking sorry that he'd reacted so badly when Face had confessed his secret. Hannibal understood why Face had locked that part of his life away, and he was sorry he wasn't there for him, didn't support him when he needed him, didn't _see_ what this mission was doing to him. He wanted to tell Face he was so sorry that that bastard had raped him, and Hannibal wasn't there to stop it.

Hannibal wanted to say all that but all the words just stuck in his throat.

Instead he leaned in and kissed his boy gently on the forehead.

"It'll be alright, son," Hannibal finally breathed. "We can work through this. Together. I promise."

"Hannibal, sir?"

Charles' hesitant voice pulled Hannibal's attention off Face. "What is it, kid?"

"Um, BA says he fixed up the truck. We're ready to go, sir," Charles said. Hannibal nodded his head and the boy quickly scurried back to the truck.

"You ready to go home?" he asked softly. Face stared open mouthed, still confused and shocked at Hannibal's promise. The colonel frowned slightly. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Face whispered and licked his dry lips. Hannibal stood up and turned to face Murdock who was approaching with the backpacks.

"Hey bossman, we got plenty o' water, time to saddle up!" Murdock looked down at Face and smiled widely. "You got the whole back seat to yourself, Facey," he declared brightly.

Face blinked, his mind was still trying to process Hannibal's words, and Murdock's cheery banter sounded far too much like that god-awful noise back in the lab.

And his head began to ache again.

"C'mon, kid," Hannibal said as he gently helped Face to stand. His ribs protested wildly and the world did a sudden one-eighty, but Face made it to the truck on his feet.

"Are we going to drive all the way to LA?" asked Charles from the truck bed. Murdock, keeping him company back there, chuckled.

"I think we are, kiddo," he nodded seeing BA's intense stare. "Bosco there don't like to fly."

"No, I don't, fool," BA growled and climbed into the driving seat.

"But, is this truck going to make it to LA?" Charles added looking a little worried.

"Don't worry about it, kid, we're only takin' this to the next town. We'll get a better vehicle then," Hannibal said and patted him on the back before sliding in next to BA.

Face leaned back against the back seat and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long, long drive, he though, before sleep claimed him.

oOo

He was running, but the corridor seemed to get longer, and he couldn't reach the end.

"Face!" Hannibal cried from the door, and Face ran faster, faster, but the end, and Hannibal, got further and further away with each step.

"Hannibal!" he shouted, reaching out to his hand. "Wait! Don't go! I'm sorry..."

But as he ran the lights started flashing, blinding him. He fell, feeling an instant pain in his hands and he looked down at them seeing them on fire. He screamed for Hannibal, but when he looked up again, he saw the man's face looking back with such disappointment, full of betrayal.

"Why, Face, why did you do it? I _loved_ you like a son! Why didn't you tell me you were a whore?"

"John?" Face gasped when Hannibal spat that last word out in disgust. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his burning hands, only to find them freezing cold. "Shit!" But when he opened his eyes again, he couldn't see. "John? Help me!"

"Why, Face? Why should I?" Hannibal's hateful voice echoed around him.

"Please, John!"

"You're nothing but a whore, _my_ whore, Chris," the voice morphed into Jackson McCain's and it started laughing evilly, the noise getting louder and louder...

"No!" Face screamed out covering his ears. "No! NO!"

"Face!" Hannibal repeated frantically trying to wake the kid up. He leaned further over the seat and shook his shoulder. "Face, wake up!"

Jerking awake, Face bolted upright jarring is ribs and crying out.

"Jesus, kid, take it easy," Hannibal frowned and eased the man back down.

Face opened his eyes expecting to see McCain, that corridor, and sighed when Hannibal's concerned face peered down at him, along with the two worried ones at the back window. He wiggled his fingers at Murdock who quickly waved back.

"You okay, son?" Hannibal asked as he handed Face a bottle of water and some Tylenol.

"Yeah," Face smiled tightly. "Just a dream."

A snort sounded from the driver's seat. Face frowned.

"Sounded like a little more than just a dream," Hannibal explained very softly.

"Sorry," Face offered and took the pills, drinking the water slowly.

"No need to be sorry," Hannibal murmured and took a drink of water from his own bottle. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Face..."

Sighing, the kid stared at the scenery flying past the window. He knew by the tone of Hannibal's voice, he'd end up talking to him about it, about everything, eventually. He looked up to see Hannibal waiting. "When we get to LA, okay?" he asked quietly, eyes pleading.

"Okay, kid."

The rest of the journey went by fast, with a quick pit stop for burgers and the washroom, another to buy food for the trip, essentials and a few new clothes, and darkness soon fell as Hannibal drove them to a small, out of the way, motel for the night.

They booked one room with two beds – their standard, and took shifts watching Face and sitting by the window watching the world go by.

By 0600 the next day, they were back on the road.

oOo

"An RV?" Face mused when BA rolled up in a twenty foot motor home. Hannibal pulled out a cigar from the new pack Murdock had procured for him, and chewed happily on it.

"It's a long drive to LA, kid," he grinned. "Have to do it in style!"

"You know, we could fly. There's an air-"

"Bosco don't fly, Charlie," Murdock interrupted him on the way to a vending machine. "Besides, we have enough money, right bossman?"

Thinking of the thousands Briggs gave them, he nodded. And thinking of Briggs, Hannibal knew he was well overdue for an update. He sat by Face in the truck and frowned at his cell.

"You okay, boss?" Face asked sipping happily on a coffee. The bruises on his face were turning shades of yellow and black, and he held his paper cup carefully between his bandaged hands, but he looked a little better than he did. Hannibal smiled at him.

"Never better," he murmured softly. "I have to ring Briggs," he added with a look of disdain.

Charles whipped his head around at the mention of his father's name. "Don't," he said, "Please."

Hannibal and Face both looked at the boy. The look of terror and fear in the normally bright green eyes made Hannibal put his cell down.

"I... I don't want to go home," the boy confessed quietly, adding a little bolder, "You take me home, and I'll run away again."

Face cocked his head and frowned. He saw in Charles' eyes exactly what he'd felt when he'd run away from his foster parents, and the man that molested him as a kid. "Who is it, Charles? Is it your father?" he asked, knowing that _somebody_ at the boy's home was abusing him.

Charles promptly blushed and looked away. It was his father. The bastard. Face and Hannibal exchanged looks, and Hannibal picked up his cell again.

"Briggs," he said loudly. Charles' eyes widened and filled with tears. Face shushed him quickly and winked. Hannibal placed a calming, supportive hand on the boy's slender shoulder and smiled grimly into the cell, "No news yet, sorry. No... Yes, I understand that, Briggs, but... Lead? Oh, yes... No, that was a dead end... Okay."

The look of surprise on Charles' face made both Face and Hannibal smile. Face rubbed a bandaged hand up and down his arm.

"Don't worry, kid, we're not gonna send you home to someone that's... well, it's up to you now. Do you have anywhere in mind you'd like to go?"

"I..." Charles was speechless. Hannibal clapped him gently on the back.

"Think about it, kiddo," he smiled.

They were going to lose a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and likely would incur the wrath of one very pissed off Clayton Briggs, but Hannibal, Face and the rest of the A Team wasn't going to let that slimy paedophile touch Charles again.

In fact, Hannibal was hatching a plan to expose the child molester for what he was.

Murdock bounced over to Face with a can of soda and three Baby Ruth bars from the vending machine for him, and grinned when he saw Hannibal and Charles smiling quietly together.

"Charles told you an' Hannibal his no-good father's been abusin' him, then?" he asked around a mouthful of chocolate. Face blinked.

"How did you...? Nevermind," he amended. Murdock was the astute one, saw everything, he remembered with a fond smile. He opened a Baby Ruth and took a small bite, but handed the sugar laden soda back with a grimace.

"But Facey, it's grape," Murdock said. "You like grape."

"No, I like _grapes_. The little round fruits that come in a bunch," he corrected. Murdock made a little 'O' shape with his lips and nodded, stuffing in another huge chunk of chocolate and chewing thoughtfully.

oOo

The RV turned out to be a really smooth ride. BA drove it, of course, with Murdock claiming shotgun. Face lay comfortably on one of the long seats in the back that doubled as a bed, and he and Hannibal spent most of the journey teaching the finer points of Gin Rummy to Charles, who, it turned out, was a natural.

There was a stereo, a small TV, and basic kitchen facilities on board too, with a tiny, adequate washroom for convenience.

Murdock fell in love with the motor home immediately, christening it the A-Team-Mobile, and officially declared the journey back as a road trip.

Charles laughed at the name, until he realised that his new friends were indeed the famous A Team, escaped federal fugitives, soldiers of fortune.

"You mean my father hired you to find me?" he asked shocked. Murdock sat by him on the seat and nodded.

"Yeah. Discreet was word, wasn't it, bossman?"

Blowing out a breath, Hannibal put his cards down and looked at the boy. "Your father hired us to find you and bring you home, son," he told him. "Discretion is what he was paying the big bucks for, but we're not mercenaries. We know what you father is, Charles."

"You never have to see him again," Face added inching his fingers towards Hannibal's cards. The colonel scowled at him and he stilled with a sheepish look.

"I... I don't?" Charles said quietly, his green eyes clearly showing all the hurt and betrayal he felt for the one man he was supposed to be able to trust in his life. "He thinks I'm an embarrassment."

"No, he's afraid you'll tell someone his sordid little secret and he'll be ruined," Face amended seriously. He frowned at the bad hand of cards he had and put them down. "You're not an embarrassment, kid. You're a survivor."

Hannibal looked at Face and his chosen words. A survivor. Just like Face was, and is. He nodded, feeling proud of them both.

Charles smiled, finding a new comfort in thinking that way of himself. Yes. He was a survivor. Picking up his cards, he laid them down and grinned widely. He had a winning hand. Murdock clapped him on the back as both Hannibal and Face rolled their eyes.

"So, you guys are _really_ the A Team?" he asked again, serious moment over now. "Can I have your autographs?"

Hannibal barked out a laugh and loosely gripped the cheeky whelp's head in an arm lock and ruffled his hair. "Autographs? I'll give you autographs, you cheeky monkey!"

Laughter filtered through the whole motor home, and it was a welcomed change to the last few days.

"Murdock," BA called from the front over the raucous noise. Murdock, still grinning, dropped into the passenger seat next to him.

"Wassup, Bosco?"

"Tell the boss we're pullin' in here for the night," he said pointing to a sign that said Sunshine Park. Murdock nodded and made to stand again when BA added softly, "s'good to hear the kid laugh."

"Yes, it is," Murdock agreed and headed back towards Hannibal.

oOo

The park was empty, and BA pulled the RV up close to a bank of trees, hiding it from the road. They immediately set up the portable grill and Murdock started on some steaks.

Hannibal hovered close to Face as he made his way outside to watch Murdock cook – one of his favourite pastimes, fussing over him until the young man shooed him away fondly accusing him of being a mother hen.

"He's lookin' better," BA observed quietly from where both he and Hannibal watched Face laugh at a joke Murdock had just told. Hannibal nodded.

Yeah, physically maybe, he thought ruefully. They still had a long way to go, though. "He's healing well, and that fever has run its course, thank God."

"What about... you know"? BA asked, dark eyes clouding slightly with concern.

"Oh, we've a long way to go there, BA," Hannibal sighed. He rolled his beer can in his fingers and frowned. "I fucked up royally on this one," he admitted softly.

BA remained silent.

"I know why he didn't tell me about his past, what... what he did, but... BA, I irrationally acted before thinking. All I could think about was that he'd lied to me, kept this secret from me, and I felt betrayed, disappointed. And because of that, I missed seeing what I was doing to him, what this case was doing to him... I nearly lost him, Bosco."

"Hannibal, Face loves you, man," BA said after a moment. He leaned in close, "Kid worships the ground you walk on. All he wants is to make you happy, proud of 'im. This damned near broke him, you knowin' 'bout his past."

"I know," Hannibal nodded. He tipped the can back and gulped a mouthful.

"I ain't never seen 'im like he was when you disappeared into that bathroom at the hotel. Thought the fool was gonna do a runner. It was like somethin' had died, right here," he thumped on his chest over his heart. Hannibal closed his eyes in grief. God, what had he done?

"I'm sorry. I should've _seen_ what was happening... I just..." He stopped and frowned hard, still so angry at himself for missing what was right in front of him.

BA leaned back and drained his can. "You know, you should be tellin' Face all this, man," he shrugged.

"He doesn't wanna talk about it 'til we get back to LA," Hannibal murmured looking at Face again and smiling when the kid shook a can, opened it and deliberately sprayed Murdock with foamy beer. Marshmallow's started flying about the small camp site then.

"Well, s'up to you, but," BA looked at Hannibal, "I reckon the longer you leave it, the harder it'll be."

Hannibal thought about that. He didn't want to pressure Face into talking, he knew that the kid would just clam up, and that would make things ten times worse. But BA did have a point. The longer they left this hanging over them, the harder it would be to fix it.

Hannibal knew he'd fucked up, knew Face was disappointed in him because he'd let the kid down when he needed him most, letting his stupid, blinding irrationalities cloud his judgement, until Face had to reveal his painful, most inner secret just to make Hannibal understand, to make Hannibal _trust_ him and what he was doing.

It tore at Hannibal's heart knowing what that cost Face.

He should have listened to Face. The frustrating thing was, Hannibal _knew_ that Face was right, to gain trust, you had to earn it on the streets. He sighed, crushing his empty can in his hand.

Hannibal just hoped Face could forgive him.

A shriek of giggles filled the air then and both BA and Hannibal looked to see Murdock and Face pelting Charles with marshmallows. They laughed fondly at the childish sight.

"Tha' crazy fool ain't puttin' marshmallows on the steaks, is he?" BA suddenly asked squinting to see the grill. Hannibal chuckled. Well, that would be interesting.

oOo

"How're you doin', kid," Hannibal asked softly when Face sighed into the pillow. Both he and Hannibal had the back end of the RV, with a curtain pulled across for a little privacy. Not that the thin material afforded that much.

"Yeah, m'okay, boss," Face smiled, slightly tipsy from the beer and overdose of sugar from the s'mores Murdock insisting on making. Hannibal lay on the opposite bed and smiled back.

His smile died though when he watched the boy's face crumple and tears filled his eyes, spilling over his cheeks.

"Tem?"

Face swallowed a sob and gasped softly. Hannibal quickly got up and gathered the young man into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him, and held on as Face tried to stop himself from shaking apart.

"Shhh...shhhh," he rocked his boy gently. "It's okay, son..."

"Oh God, John..." sobbed Face. "I'm sorry... so sorry... sorrysorry..."

Hannibal closed his eyes, heart breaking when he heard the broken, muffled words. He felt Face's bandaged hands grip him desperately as everything over the last few days finally caught up with him.

"Shhhh... I'm here, Tem, you're safe," he murmured, pressing kisses into Face's hair. "You're safe now..."

Eventually, Face stilled in Hannibal's arms, and the colonel thought he'd fallen asleep when the kid sighed shakily and swallowed away the last of his sobs. Hannibal waited, not wanting to disturb Face yet, hoping the kid would want to talk now.

"I should've told you," Face finally said into the pillow, so quietly that Hannibal strained to hear.

"No, Face." He shifted so Face was comfortably lying up against his chest. "That wasn't a secret for me to know. _I'm_ sorry for reacting the way that I did. Fuck, I'm sorry for it all. Letting you down, not listening to you, not see-"

Finger tips against his mouth stopped him and he looked down to see Face looking up at him, anxiously licking his lips. He gently moved the fingers away.

"I'm sorry that that bastard raped you, and I wasn't there to stop it," Hannibal said wretchedly.

"It's okay," Face mumbled uncomfortably not really wanting to talk about that.

"It's not okay, Tem," insisted Hannibal though, and Face sighed.

"Yes it is, because that bastard and the others didn't mean anything to me. They were all just-" He stopped at the wide eyed looked Hannibal had.

"Others?" Hannibal repeated, remembering clearly that McCain had indicated that he'd raped Face before. Did Face mean the other rapes? Anger boiled his blood, and his stomach rolled in painful realisation when Face's eyes fell. "Oh God..."

"John, please..."

"How many raped you this time, son?"

Face bit at his lips and blew out a shaky breath. "Three," he admitted and cringed when he felt Hannibal's body stiffen.

If one wasn't bad enough, three was sure to make Hannibal be repulsed by him even more, and Face felt that empty void open wide and start to swallow him again.

How could Hannibal want him after that? He was a whore, who had been gang banged. Had men – _plural!_ – forcibly take what wasn't theirs to take, and soil him.

And he hadn't stopped them.

"Face," Hannibal murmured becoming concerned. "C'mon, kid, talk to me."

Hannibal looked down again and pulled his arms tighter when Face didn't answer. The fury he felt inside him at what that bastard and his goons had done to his boy began to eat him alive. But Face didn't need that, didn't need Hannibal's anger... he needed Hannibal's support, so the colonel carefully calmed himself and focussed on what was important right now.

He swallowed hard before starting a steady monologue, hoping Face would listen... and understand. "It matters to me that they did that to you, son, but not in the way you think," because Hannibal knew what Face was thinking. "It matters because they violated you, hurt you, took what wasn't theirs... They had no right." He felt Face's body shake and rubbed his hand down the boy's arm. "They beat you, incapacitated you," he assumed from the myriad of injuries Face had, "because they _knew_ you wouldn't give it freely."

Face's breath hitched as he listened... Hannibal carried on...

"And you're not his whore, you're not a whore, Face, you're a beautiful man with a beautiful soul. What you do in life moulds you into the man you become, and you, Templeton peck, are a brave, courageous, honourable person, who has endured some of life's worst shit and survived through it." He pressed a kiss into Face's hair and smiled. "I told you that I was proud of you, and I meant it, son."

The little curtained off area fell silent for a minute or two while Face absorbed what Hannibal had said. He lay still, not wanting to break whatever spell this was, feeling mixed up and confused.

"I..." he started softly and sighed when the rest of the words didn't come. Hannibal moved his hand up to Face's hair and gently stroked his fingers through it. Face moved into the comforting gesture.

"Remember kid," the colonel whispered softly, "That I love you, and will love you whatever has happened or will happen. You're still my boy."

"Th-they... didn't use protection," Face murmured and felt Hannibal nod.

"Okay, we'll get you checked out when we get home," he said carefully. Alright, they were talking. Good. He waited patiently.

"I'm sorry I didn't follow the plan," Face said quietly, voice a little stronger. "But... I knew..."

"You knew they'd trust you better, if you went that little bit further and were one of them," Hannibal finished.

"Yeah."

"I should have listened to you." And Hannibal would have been there with support if he had.

"You weren't to know, John," Face sighed.

"It's still no excuse, Face," Hannibal frowned at himself and pulled the kid against him a little more. "This case, and what you went through... You did it on your own. And," he sighed heavily, "For that, I'll never forgive myself for letting you down."

Face felt a cold splinter pierce his heart at Hannibal's words, guilt for causing him distress weighing heavily.

"Can you forgive me?"

The question caught Face off guard and he looked up to see Hannibal's entreating blue eyes watching him. He opened his mouth to answer but his throat closed. Hannibal's eyes lowered.

Of course Face couldn't forgive him.

"John?" Hannibal looked up again. "There's nothing to forgive. I should have told you about... well, about all that in the beginning. Explained to you... and..." He blew out a breath. "It's all locked up in a box in my head, and I don't ever look in there, John. But this job... the box kinda leaked an' I... I couldn't help that life from taking over.

"It's who I was back then. From the age of eleven I was unfortunately placed in situations where I was either abused or molested. It was out of my control, I was... a victim of circumstance. And when I turned thirteen, and I was placed with a family whose father drank and liked to fuck little boys... I'd had enough." Face licked his lips, feeling light headed at finally, _finally_ telling someone. "It took me a few months. I'd run away and get brought back... He would be so angry... But then I managed to scam enough money for a bus ticket to New York, and well, you kinda know the rest."

Hannibal listened to every word Face said, committing it all to memory. This was the first time the kid had shared _anything_ about his life prior to the army. What Face told him though, made him want to weep. His heart ached for all the agony Face went through. How the fuck did these scumbag people become foster parents! He vowed right then he'd always do his damnedest to make sure his boy was safe and happy now.

"I... I worked the streets for a year, then ended up working for McCain," Face finished softly.

A minute passed before Hannibal gently cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said. Face smiled hesitantly and nodded.

No more secrets between them now.

"I set fire to BA's stash of porn," Hannibal quietly admitted a moment later. If they were confessing secrets...

Face's head snapped up, momentarily confused. His eyes widened. "That was you!"

Hannibal grinned, and Face burst out laughing.

"Fuck, boss, I thought he was gonna bust a gut when he found that drum with the remains inside," the kid wheezed, remembering years ago when BA had stomped through the FOB 'Headhunter' in Iraq like a hurricane looking for his private collection of Playboy. Murdock had luckily escaped his wrath by being on a mission, but that didn't stop the big guy accusing the crazy man first.

"Hey, it was BA's fault though, he should never have dared anyone to go near them!" Hannibal laughed.

"Oh God, that's priceless," Face gasped, clutching his healing ribs. Eventually they calmed, the heavy, solemn atmosphere lifted, and lay together, small smiles on their faces.

"You do know we're gonna have to talk about what happened in the sensory torture lab sometime, don't you, kid?" Hannibal said into the quiet, and Face smiled a little wider.

That was something he could now do.

oOo

Murdock and Charles crept into the motor home a while later to find both Face and Hannibal sound asleep. Murdock smiled.

"C'mon, kid, bed time," he whispered sending Charles to his bunk at the front. The boy went willingly, looking forward to having a decent night's sleep, without the worry and fear that he'd dealt with since he could remember.

Grabbing a flask of coffee, Murdock then quietly slipped out of the RV to join BA outside. The two men then took turns keeping watch and dozing fitfully by a small camp fire.

oOo

It was nearing 0200 when Hannibal was woken up by harsh, frantic breathing. He looked across towards Face to see him struggling with a nightmare.

"Shit," he hissed and hurried to the kid's side. Face gasped and sucked in a breath, his eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids. "Face..."

"No... nopleasedon't... Stop..."

"Tem, wake up," Hannibal tried again, keeping his voice soft. He stroked his hands soothingly up the kid's arms. Face stiffened and cried out.

Murdock flew into the RV and quickly stuck his head around the curtain.

"Hannibal?"

"Nightmare," the colonel explained as he carefully tried to wake Face up. "Tem, c'mon, kid, you're safe. It's me, John..."

"Leavemealone... No... Wait, don't leave me, Hannibal! Help me!"

Murdock's eyes filled at the anguish in Face's voice. He looked at Hannibal and saw the same expression.

"Tem!"

Face bolted upright and gasped harshly, his skin soaked with sweat, his eyes wide and terrified. He quickly looked around, calming when saw Hannibal.

"You back with me now?" Hannibal asked softly. Face nodded, a rapid head movement that made him wince.

"Sorry," he blurted and looked up at Murdock. "Sorry."

"Hey, we all have nightmares, muchacho," Murdock smiled shaking his head. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, Face nodded again. "Yeah," he said self consciously wiping a hand over his face. "Yeah, just a..."

"Nightmare," Hannibal finished for him. "You wanna talk about it?" he asked, as he always did after Face had had a nightmare.

And as always, the kid said no.

"It might help, Facey," Murdock murmured. Face blushed, mortified now that he'd had one where everyone could hear.

"Maybe later," he mumbled and settled down again. Hannibal and Murdock shrugged at each other, then the pilot left.

Both Face and Hannibal heard him murmur to Charles before leaving the RV again.

Face was asleep again within minutes. Hannibal stayed awake until dawn.

oOo

As they drove through Kansas, Charles suddenly asked if he could be dropped off in Boulder, Colorado.

"You got relatives there, kid?" asked Hannibal. Charles shook his head.

"No, a friend," he answered carefully. Face glanced up from the hand held computer game that Murdock had bought.

"A friend?" he repeated just as carefully.

"Yeah. She was a hooker in Newark. Got clean and had a kid. She lives in Boulder," Charles explained with a small smile. "She said if I ever needed anywhere to go..."

"Okay, kid," Hannibal smiled, seeing the truth clear in Charles' eyes, and clapped the boy on the back. "Boulder, Colorado it is."

oOo

Grace Peters, aged twenty eight, mom to a seven month old baby son called Reese, answered the door in a waitress uniform.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and then her eyes fell on Charles and she grabbed him in a huge, crushing bear hug. "Charlie?"

"Hi Gracie," the boy smiled. He turned to his new friends and introduced them. Gracie offered them all to come in.

"Can I get you guys some coffee? Juice? Sorry about the mess, Reese kinda keeps me busy, ya know, no time to clean, look after a baby and work..." she babbled as she filled the coffee machine. "What about cookies? I know I have some somewhere, if the baby sitter hasn't eaten them all yet. I should really go shopping..."

Gracie carried on talking obliviously. Hannibal exchanged amused looks with Face.

"Man, an' I thought you could talk, crazy," BA murmured with a chuckle. Murdock stuck his tongue out at the big guy, removed a half eaten cookie from the sofa cautiously between his finger and thumb, and perched himself tentatively on the edge.

"...and diapers, boy, he goes through like ten a day!" Gracie laughed as she handed out mugs of coffee. She sat down and looked fondly at Charles again. "It's really good to see you, Charlie."

"Yeah, you too, Gracie," Charles smiled back.

"So, what's the deal here? You come to stay with me, kiddo?" she asked with a bright smile. Charles glanced at Hannibal, and then back at the woman.

"If that's okay with you, Gracie," the colonel said. He put his coffee down, pulled out an envelope and handed it to the boy. "I know it's your choice what you do, kid. We were hired to find you, get you off the street. Well, we did that." He pointed to the envelope. "There's sixty thousand dollars in there. Use it to go back to school. Change your life for the better, Charles."

Charles nodded wide eyed at Hannibal, clutching the envelope to his chest. Face smiled at him, pleased at knowing the kid had a chance to escape that life now, and make a better one for himself.

"Wow, I... I don't know what to say," the boy said quietly, still struggling for words. Gracie rolled her eyes.

"Say thank you, kiddo," she encouraged, and the team chuckled when Charles blushed and rushed out a series of rapid-fire thank-you's.

"You're welcome, Charles," Hannibal nodded.

oOo

"So, you think Charlie will make it?" asked Murdock later in the RV. They'd left Charles with Gracie and Reese two hours earlier, happy in the knowledge the boy was in good hands.

Better hands than his own father.

"Kid has a good head on his shoulders. He just needed a break," Hannibal said and picked up another card. Face narrowed his eyes at him when a small smirk appeared behind his cigar.

Murdock leaned forward and snagged a card, grinning excitedly when he saw what it was. The pilot's poker face was seriously in need of perfecting. "That's true. Charlie is a bright kid. Shame his father is such a schmuck." He chewed on his inner cheek. "What are we gonna do about him, anyway, bossman?"

"Who?" asked Face as he contemplated his hand.

"Clayton I'm-a-dirty-lowlife-child-molester Briggs," Murdock said. He fanned his cards in his hand.

"Oh, don't worry, boys, I have a plan for that slimeball. Gin," Hannibal grinned, placed his cards down and looked at Face.

"What, again?" Face moaned as he saw Hannibal's winning hand. He sighed and grumbled, "My game's definitely off."

Murdock gathered the deck as Hannibal dragged the substantial pile of cheerio's towards his side of the small table. "What's the plan, boss?"

"Well," the colonel started, puffing on his cigar, "It's just a matter of exposing him."

As plans went, it didn't get any simpler.

Face rolled his eyes. "Yeah, an' to do that, I'm guessin' you're gonna want his personal computer. Which Briggs won't willingly give you, so we'll have to steal it. Right?"

Hannibal grinned.

"And to steal it means we'll have to break into his office, most likely at his home. Right?" Face added.

"And your point is..."

"Oh, nothin', boss, I'm just sayin'," Face shrugged, exaggerating another eye roll. Man was on the jazz!

Murdock dealt them all another hand of cards. "You don't hafta sneak in the back door, y'know, you can always march right in the front," he suggested, eyes on his hand. Face and Hannibal blinked at him.

"Okay, HM, I'll bite," Face mused, curious what his crazy genius friend was thinking.

"Ooo, Facey, not too hard, I hope," Murdock grinned and pushed five cheerio's into the middle of the table. Face snickered softly. "I mean, you could hack into his computer. I know this guy that can hack into anything. Can pull off wearing tangerine pants real well, too."

Tangerine pants? Hannibal smiled and doubled the cheerio stake. "So, this friend of yours, HM. D'ya know where he is?" Because skipping the dangerous part of the plan totally and just getting the results sounded perfect.

"Yup. He does the soup kitchen at the Blessed Angels Mission in LA. Um, Facey, you need to stop eatin' your Gin money," Murdock said as Face popped another cheerio into his mouth and chewed.

"Okay then. We'll try out your friend, kid," Hannibal nodded and picked up a card, smirking when he saw the straight flush in his hand. Face groaned.

oOo

BA pulled the RV up close between a row of tall conifers and a wall. He switched off the engine, climbed out of the driver's seat and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop of his vertebrae as they moved back into alignment. It was quiet in the motor home, and he softly made his way to the back. Murdock and Face were asleep on the bench-come-beds.

"We all secure, sergeant?" Hannibal asked lowly. He put his book down and rubbed at his face.

"Yeah, man," BA murmured and poured himself a glass of milk. Hannibal stood up.

"Okay, I'll take first watch. You get some sleep, big guy," he smiled, grabbed the coffee pot and filled a large mug.

An hour later, the RV resonating quietly with BA's snores, Hannibal stood watching the nocturnal activities of the moonlit night through the windscreen. A soft whimper caught his attention, and he turned, frowning when he heard Murdock's gentle shushing noises drifting from the rear of the vehicle.

"Please... don' turnitoff... s'dark... s'too dark..."

"Facey, wake up," Murdock whispered as Hannibal entered the curtained off area. Face was sweating and pale, and clearly struggling with his night terrors.

"...can't see, please... someone talk to me..." His voice was edged with fear and panic, and Hannibal knew where he was in his nightmare. He gently framed the kid's face with his cool hands.

"Kid, wake up, open your eyes," he murmured softly. Murdock swallowed hard at the desolate little whimpers coming from his best friend. "Hear my voice, Tem, hear me. I'm here with you. Come back to me..."

The gentle words did the trick and Face slowly woke up, sighing when he saw Hannibal's face. He felt Murdock hold his hand and gripped it in return.

"You okay, son?" Hannibal asked. Face nodded. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Sighing, Hannibal nodded expecting nothing else. "Okay, kid, go back to sleep."

Murdock pulled on his sweater and stood up, pushing Hannibal down. "You stay with him, bossman, I'm awake now. I'll do the watch."

Hannibal hesitated a moment – he'd only been on watch just over an hour, but nodded anyway. "Alright, captain. Wake me in two hours," he agreed. The pilot snapped off a salute, grabbed his hand-held computer game and disappeared to the front of the RV.

When Hannibal looked down at Face, he found him sound asleep. He pressed a kiss into the kid's hair and lay down, his last thought before following Face into slumber was that he really needed to get Face to talk about his ordeal, and then he could fight his nightmares.

oOo

Los Angeles was a welcomed sight.

It had taken just over four days to drive across the country, via Colorado, and the team had enjoyed every mile. It had been time for them to reflect on the God-awful job they'd just done, and start the healing process. Not just for the physical injuries, of which Face was doing much better, but for the mental anguish, too.

For all of them.

And by the time they pulled the RV into the drive of Hannibal's home, the one he shared with Face, the one Face had worked especially hard to get right near the beach... all four men were weary, but happy.

"Oh God, it's good to be home," Murdock sighed and pulled in a lung full of fresh LA sea air. He hopped off the RV and lifted his face to the sun, arms outstretched, spinning around, smiling.

BA rolled his eyes at the pilot, but let him have his moment. He grabbed their bags and hauled them to the front door. "Hannibal, man, c'mon!"

"Yeah, comin'," Hannibal called from inside the motor home.

He and Face sat smiling at each other, glad to be home, glad it was over.

"Hannibal!"

"You'd better go open up, boss," Face chuckled, "Before BA sticks his foot through the door."

Shaking his head, Hannibal laughed and stood up. He held out his hand to Face. "You comin'?"

Face hesitated a second, then nodded. "Yeah, in a minute," he said. "Just wanna y'know... get my bearings." It was lame, but it was all he had. In truth, Face needed to set his head straight... he was home, life was back to the way it was... but was it the same? Would it ever be the same again?

Patting Face's shoulder, Hannibal smiled, fished the house keys from his jacket pocket, and then strolled off the RV.

With a barely controlled exhale, Face let the quiet close in on him. His mind whirled with the last few days, and everything that had happened. His downward spiral back into a life he thought he'd buried. His confession. The team's reaction. The way Hannibal reacted. The rape... The guilt, shame, betrayal.

But then... The team standing by him. Hannibal telling him that what Face did to survive as a kid made him proud... that he still loved Face, still wanted him in his life...

...and asking for forgiveness for letting him down.

The vestiges of his nightmares haunted him, though. Mixed up as they were, they all ended with Hannibal leaving him, leaving the dirty whore with McCain in that cold, dark room, naked and bleeding on the floor.

Face just couldn't sift through all the torment in his head, be sure of what was real, what wasn't.

He sighed and rubbed his rough hands over his face, pulling them away to look at the healing scabs on his palms. And for a second he was right back there, in that room, and the silence deafened him.

"Shit," he hissed, clapping his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut, the stitches on his forehead pulling tight. "No... nonono..."

"Facey?"

Frowning, eyes wide and concerned, Murdock quickly crouched in front of Face, gently taking the kids hands away from his ears. "Facey..."

Face swallowed hard and opened his eyes. "Are you real?" he whispered on the back of a quick breath. Murdock blinked alarmed.

"Yes, Face, I'm real." He pulled Face's hand to his own cheek. "See? Feel me... I'm really real."

"It's so quiet," Face said, eyes not leaving Murdock's. The pilot's anxiety rose and he bit at his lip. He'd seen patients in the hospital's he'd been in act like this... spacey. Scary.

"Yeah, 'tis kinda quiet. You should come inside the house, Facey. BA an' Hannibal are in there makin' lots o' noise," Murdock suggested slowly.

"I don't think I like the quiet anymore, HM... It's too loud," Face frowned and shook his head. He pulled his hand from Murdock's face and curled his fingers into his palm, wincing when healing scabs split and spots of blood coloured his skin. Murdock gently stopped him.

"I don't like the quiet either, Facey," he confessed softly. "Gimme Led Zeppelin over silence any day."

Face blinked once, and then laughed, the moment over as fast as it began, and then he looked slightly freaked out at Murdock, licked his lips, before smiling relieved. It was a bizarre moment, and Murdock's eyebrows hit his hairline.

Edging himself off the seat, Face carefully stood up and made his way off the RV. Murdock watched curiously through narrowed eyes. He had to have a talk with Hannibal about Face.

oOo

Hannibal had opened the huge patio doors, and the LA noise drifted into the house. Face stood and smiled as he let it sooth him. Music from beach buskers, kids playing, seagulls, rolling waves... perfect.

"Here," Hannibal murmured and handed Face a glass of water. He frowned when he saw the bloody hand and gently lifted it. "What happened?"

Face looked surprised at his palm. He couldn't remember doing that. "I dunno," he shrugged softly. Hannibal blew out a breath and sat him down. He fetched a first aid kit and began to clean away the blood. Face watched impassively.

"No damage, kid," Hannibal nodded and rewrapped the hand. He checked the other, satisfied it was fine.

Murdock walked in, saw Hannibal's concerned face, and chewed on his lip. He saw BA and headed into the kitchen.

"Hey, Bosco, you gotta minute?"

"Whatcha want, crazy?" BA mumbled, body half in half out of the refrigerator. When Murdock didn't answer, he stood up and looked at the pilot. "Wassup?"

"I um... I think Facey might be sufferin' from some sorta... delayed shock," he said quietly. BA's eyes snapped towards the main room where he knew Hannibal and Face were.

"You need t'be tellin' Hannibal this, man," he grunted worriedly. He grabbed a juice carton and wrestled it open.

"Oh, I will, just..." Murdock pushed his fingers into his hair and hung on tight. "I'm sacred, Bosco. What if Facey-"

"Hey now, he's gonna be jus' fine, HM," BA quickly interrupted. He put the juice down and gently prised the pilot's death grip from his head. "Kid's been through worse, an' he always comes back."

Blue-green eyes looked up into brown. Murdock knew that, but BA hadn't just seen that scared, confused, faraway look in Face's eyes, "Yeah, but... what if-"

"James," BA stopped Murdock dead and pulled the anxious pilot into his bulky frame. "You listen, and you listen good, okay?" Murdock nodded. "Face is gonna be jus' fine. An' you know why?" BA waited a beat, felt Murdock nod again, and smiled. "Tha's right. 'Cause we won't let 'im fall. We a team, a family, an' family don't let family keep hurtin'."

After a moment, BA felt Murdock's head move against his chest. He pulled his arms around the pilot tighter and asked again, "Okay, James?"

"Yeah," whispered Murdock, and BA silently prayed he was right.

oOo

Hannibal watched Face for a few moments. The kid stared silently towards the windows, unmoving, glass of water forgotten in his hand, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Penny for them", Hannibal murmured. Face smiled wider and slid his eyes over to man next to him.

"I doubt they're worth that," he shrugged. Hannibal scrunched his nose for a second and nodded anyway.

"Try me."

Sighing, Face turned back to the window, "Just... the job, Charles..." he swallowed, a fleeting flash of fear crossing is features before it disappeared again. "Everything," he added.

And Hannibal knew what he meant. He rubbed his hand over Face's thigh, twisted his body to face him, and gently nudged his chin. Face moved willingly, eyes meeting Hannibal's again.

"Talk to me, kid," he urged gently. The tenuous hold Face had on reality right now needed to be addressed. He'd heard the kid mumble to himself, reassure himself that it was all okay, it was over, when he thought no one could hear.

Hannibal had been through this before with him. He knew.

And to Hannibal's utter relief, Face started talking... and didn't stop.

oOo

BA and Murdock were sat on the beach watching the sunset when Hannibal found them. He walked up and stood silently for a moment.

"How's Face?" BA asked softly, Murdock looking up anxiously.

Hannibal blew out a breath and pushed his fingers through his hair. "I think he's gonna be okay," he smiled and hunkered down on the sand.

Murdock nervously chewed on his lips a moment before asking, "You sure? 'Cause he was pretty spooked in the A-Team-Mobile earlier."

Glancing quickly at Murdock, Hannibal turned to BA when the big guy rubbed a supporting hand down the pilot's back.

"Fool was spooked, too," he murmured. "Said Face had some kinda flashback. Was actin' all kinds o' crazy."

Hannibal's eyes slid back to Murdock, and he saw the fear in them. He smiled warmly. "I'm not gonna lie, Face has a way to go yet, but we had a long talk, and he told me everything that happened at the lab," he paused as a shudder rippled through him, "and before the lab... And we can help him, now."

"Where is he?" Murdock asked, nodding.

"Bed. He's exhausted. I put him to bed with a dose of Vicodin," Hannibal answered. BA whistled.

"Man, Face gonna sleep for a week," he observed, knowing from previous experience just what that particular narcotic did to the young man.

It was true. The drug tended to knock Face out for hours, and Hannibal was reluctant to give it to him, but the kid needed some serious rest. Hopefully without the nightmares.

"Yeah," he added softly and watched the sun disappear into the horizon before returning to the house, and to Face, with his team.

oOo

_A week later..._

They'd sold the RV, breaking even on what they'd paid for it. Murdock had been glad to see it go. After seeing Face sitting in the back, looking so lost... the pilot never wanted to set foot in it again.

The last few days saw a huge turn-around for Face. With a lot of help from his friends, he'd eventually conquered his nightmares and knew in his mind exactly what was real, and what wasn't.

He and Hannibal had finally addressed the issue of their friendship, and how it had changed because of what Face had revealed, and both had laid everything out in the open.

That had been a tense few hours, both men struggling with their own issues of guilt and shame, disappointment and betrayal, but together they worked through it, letting the love they felt for each other heal them wholly.

And finally Face could lock that box back up in the back of his mind, and this time he let Hannibal keep the key, and his heart safe.

Face had been tested for STD's, and was found clear for most of them, so far... the other tests would take a little longer, but from the preliminary results, his doctor was highly optimistic that all the tests would come back clear.

oOo

They hadn't forgotten about Kendall's or Clayton Briggs, though, and Murdock had contacted his computer friend early in the week, arranging a quick meeting with him.

The plan was simple, straight forward and effective.

Hannibal explained to Murdock's friend about Briggs, and the hacker was truly appalled, immediately stroking an invisible animal he called Fido. Hannibal wondered for a moment if all Murdock's friends had invisible dogs, knowing the pilot occasionally talked to one called Billy.

But aside from the odd behaviour, the kid was a genius, and hacked into Briggs' system by simply using the private email the lawyer had provided them along with his contact details, and finding a way into Briggs' system.

What they found made them all sick to the stomach. The bastard's hard drive was full of child pornography.

Anonymous emails then meant the authorities were tipped off, and Clayton Briggs, big shot lawyer, was now finished. And he'd go away for a very long time.

Dealing with Kendall's was even easier, with the hard evidence they had linking the escort agency to the disappearance of a number of young people, and illegal human research. Within a day of Hannibal covertly dropping off the numerous files they'd taken from McCain's property in Connecticut to a national newspaper, the FBI were all over Kendall's, and Slam, like white on rice.

Charles was safe now. And the team was satisfied that justice had truly been served.

The icing on the cake was the surprise encounter, and subsequent execution, of Doctor Alan Ashford... a notorious scientist responsible for the horrific deaths of over sixty American soldiers, when he experimented on them in Afghanistan with chemical warfare weapons.

The quick death, in Hannibal's opinion, was far too charitable for what the bastard had done.

But all in all, for a job that had nearly cost the team dearly, they were going to live to fight another day.

oOo

_Six weeks later..._

The early morning December sun streamed through the bedroom window, the rays falling across the bed, and Hannibal smiled as he looked at Face from his bedroom door. The kid was sleeping peacefully, hand tucked loosely under his chin.

His eyes took in the serene look on his boy's face, testament to a nightmare-free sleep. Face looked so young when he slept. Not a care in the world to weigh him down.

Closing the door again, Hannibal took his coffee to the deck that over looked the beach and sat down, pulling his jacket tighter against the fresh morning cold.

A fractured memory from their last job jabbed his heart, and Hannibal swallowed. God, he'd nearly lost Face. Nearly... He pushed the stab of pain aside and focussed on the present.

Focussed on what was important.

Because even after everything, Face was still here with him, still loved him, and still trusted him. And Hannibal thanked God every waking moment for that.

A cool ocean breeze drifted up from the waves, softly bellowing the net curtains behind Hannibal, licking the corner of the letter from his doctor on the coffee table giving Face a clean bill of health... and as it gently cooled Hannibal's coffee, he leaned back, closed his eyes and smiled.

fin


End file.
